Dorothy Dale's Great Secret

Dorothy and her father moved to North Birchland, the home of Mrs. Winthrop White, Mr. Dale’s sister. Anderson, the man who had caused Dorothy so much trouble turned up again, but was eventually sent to jail.

After the holidays Dorothy and Tavia returned to school, where we find them at the opening of this story. They had become friends of nearly all the students, though, as is natural, had made some enemies, as what girl does not?

Now the party on the roadside prepared to start off again.

“I can’t forgive myself for not remembering about the dangerous state of the bridge,” went on Tavia, when Ned and Nat had announced that the auto was fit to continue its journey.

“Of course it wasn’t your fault,” said Dorothy.

“Yes it was,” insisted Tavia. “You wouldn’t have forgotten it, Doro, dear!”

And, to give Dorothy credit, she would not have been so thoughtless. But she was a different type of girl from Tavia. It was the way she had been brought up, as much as her own character, that caused this difference. Good breeding is not a virtue, it is a blessing: hence in considering such a gift we admire the fortunate possessor, just as we esteem the beauty of the cultured rose, and, naturally compare it favorably when placed next to some coarse untrained wild flower.

So it was with our two friends, Dorothy and Tavia. Dorothy was well bred, and could always be relied upon, for the good breeding was nicely coupled with a kindness of heart that composed a charming character. Though Dorothy had no mother her aunt, Mrs. Winthrop White almost filled that place in the girl’s heart.

The White family, with whom Dorothy, her father and two brothers had gone to live, since the advent of the legacy, consisted of Mrs. White and her two sons, Nat and Ned. Mr. White had died some years ago, while engaged in a scientific expedition.

Not having a daughter of her own Dorothy’s Aunt Winnie was especially fond of her pretty niece, and, as the girl could barely remember her own mother, she lavished her affection on her father’s sister.

Dorothy’s affection, love and devotion to her father was of a different type from that given to any other living creature, not excepting her own darling brothers, Joe and Roger, and Roger had almost grown up in his sister’s arms, for he had been a tiny baby when his mother was called away.

It was in Dalton that Dorothy had met and learned to love Tavia. The Travers family, of whom Tavia was the most interesting member, lived not far from the Dale homestead. Tavia had grown up with Dorothy, as her most intimate friend and companion, and it was Dorothy’s love for Tavia that had wrought miracles for the girl who lacked proper home training, for her parents were of that class generally designated as improvident.

Tavia always ignored the saving rules of correct society, and, being naturally bright, and strangely pretty was, now that she was in her fifteenth year, in a fair way to be spoiled by those who delighted to hear her witty nonsense, and who looked upon her frolics as entertaining in an otherwise stupid old world.

“Well, shall we go along now?” asked Ned, as he again took his place at the steering wheel.

“Yes, but go slow,” begged Tavia. “We can go home by a different road. We have lots of time, before we have to be back to Glenwood School for tea.”

“Slow it is,” replied Ned, not at all sorry that he could take it easy after the strenuous time. Dorothy had many questions to ask her cousins – all about her father’s rheumatism – whether the electric treatment was doing him as much good as the doctors had promised – how her brothers were getting on at school – how strange it seemed to have Roger at school! – and scores of other things. But she always came back to her father or the boys – to Roger – she could scarcely imagine her baby brother running home to Aunt Winnie with his book under his arm.

While Ned and Dorothy were thus busy with family affairs, Nat and Tavia, seated on the rear seat, were discussing purely personal matters. Nat told of the tour he and his brother had made from North Birchland, the trip being undertaken with other members of a club, which was holding a meet not far from Glenwood School. Tavia found plenty of small interesting talk to “give and take” with Nat.

“Dorothy,” she asked suddenly, “do you think we could get off all day to-morrow and take a run out to where the auto meet is being held? It would be all sorts of fun and – ”

“To-morrow?” echoed Dorothy. “Why you know we have our English exams. and our geometry to make up. Besides, Mrs. Pangborn would never allow us to go to a boys’ camp.”

“Allow us! Just as if we were in the kindergarten! Let’s make up some excuse and go! Now, Doro, don’t look so shocked! Surely you have the right to go out with your own cousins?”

“Tavia, don’t talk such nonsense!” exclaimed Dorothy severely. “You know perfectly well we are under the school rules, and that we are in honor bound not to violate them. As if any sensible girl would risk her good standing for such an escapade!”

“What’s the ‘standing’ at Glenwood compared to the ‘sitting’ in the Fire Bird?” asked Tavia flippantly. “Besides, just think of all the jolly fellows we would meet; wouldn’t we, Nat?”

“There’s a great collection of wild ducks out there at the auto camp,” Nat answered rather reluctantly, for he plainly saw that Tavia’s surprising proposition had caused Dorothy serious annoyance.

“Well, I’ve a mind to go myself. Will you come for me, boys? I could disappear at class hour, when all the ‘tattle-tales’ will be sure to be busy, scheming out of their work. Then I could get back in time to have my head tied up at lunch hour – head-ache all the morning, you know. Simplest thing in the world.”

Even the boys scarcely smiled as Tavia unfolded a possible plan to deceive her teachers, and to dishonor her own name. Her friends were well accustomed to her pranks and prattle, and usually regarded her nonsense as mere babble. But, somehow, Tavia, was “growing up,” lately, and it seemed quite time for her to take life more seriously.

“Tavia,” spoke up Dorothy finally, “you came to Glenwood upon my aunt’s recommendation, and under my – ”

“Wing!” broke in Tavia, throwing her arms out toward the slender form of the girl seated ahead of her in the auto.

“At any rate,” finished Dorothy, “I’m perfectly sure that my cousins will never take part in any such nonsense.”

“Oh, Mr. Flea, you’ve bitten me, and you must die!” sang Tavia, making a series of melo-dramatic gestures, that caused the boys to laugh and even made Dorothy smile in forgiveness.

“Thus are my social ambitions nipped in the bud – extinguished in their first, faint gleaming,” went on Tavia, assuming a tone of tragedy. “Well, my fairy-godmother, Dorothy Dale Glenwood, when that day comes that I am forced to spurn the lines of the Social Swim, and you find me beyond the ropes, clinging helplessly to the tail-end of my former prestige, carried out with the great, surging tide of struggling humanity, then you will remember that I had attempted a correct debut, and it ended in a splash of Dale indignation!”

Somehow Tavia’s nonsense had a ring of reality to-day. Perhaps it was the narrow escape at the bridge that had tinted her pictures with such a serious tone – she seemed preoccupied, and gave her chatter in words contradicted by her voice and manner. It was some minutes before any one spoke. All appeared to be enjoying the “valedictory,” and presently Tavia, promising to “turn over a new leaf,” made a grab for a branch of a tree the auto just then passed under, and swished the foliage she captured until every leaf showed its silvery under-side against the deep blue sky. She laughed at her joke.

“Of course you know,” said Ned, as he swung the car into a cross-road that led to Glenwood, “mother expects you to come to North Birchland, with Dorothy, this summer, Tavia. We’ll try to make you comfortable – ahem! Nat has a brand new tandem, besides white duck duds to burn – ”

“Nixy! To wear,” corrected his brother. “Mother says white ducks are economical for man – and beast.”

“Of course you’ll come with me, Tavia,” said Dorothy, noting instantly that her chum had not responded to the kind invitation that Nat had delivered for his mother.

“Perhaps,” replied Tavia, vaguely.

“Are you going to spend all your time at Dalton?” continued Dorothy, much puzzled at Tavia’s manner.

“Oh, no indeed,” answered Tavia, promptly this time, showing plainly, that she had other plans than those connected with her home town.

“I hope you’ll come,” said Nat aside, in pardonable earnestness, for his good times, with the “little bronze beauty” of Dalton, were cherished among his very best memories. Tavia was certainly a jolly girl, and Nat liked her – why should he not – like her?

“Oh, I’ll be sure to see you,” Tavia answered Nat.

Sure to see him? Yes, but she little dreamed then how very glad she would be to see him – and what serious happenings were to take place before that meeting.

CHAPTER III

A CUP OF TEA

“Dorothy,” began Tavia that evening, as the two girls sat alone in their room, enjoying their usual good-night conference, “why couldn’t you take that spin out to the auto meet. It would be no end of good fun.”

“Fun!” echoed Dorothy, surprised that Tavia should again venture to propose such a thing. “Why, Tavia! Really you shock me!” Then she went to the little dresser, under pretext of looking for something, but in reality to gain time – she scarcely knew what to say to her chum, whose sudden whim was so startling.

Tavia sat on the box divan, her hands in her lap, and her brown head bent over, a strange and serious attitude for the girl who was never known to sit still, even in church; and who had the reputation of being the jolliest girl at Glenwood. For some moments she appeared to be unconscious of Dorothy’s presence, so absorbed was she in her own thoughts. Dorothy was now regarding her curiously. What could have turned Tavia’s head? For turned from its usually bright and happy line of thought it plainly was.

“What is it, Tavia?” she asked finally, stealing up to the crouched figure, and placing her arm gently about her chum’s neck.

“Why?” inquired the other, with a sudden start, as if afraid Dorothy would divine her thoughts.

“You are worried about something – come tell me what it is!”

“Worried!” Tavia jumped up, shaking off Dorothy’s arm. “Worried! Dorothy Dale, I believe you’re not well! You act morbid – creepy!”

Dorothy turned away. She was hurt – crushed – that Tavia should spurn her affection and refuse her confidence.