Dorothy's Triumph

Dorothy's Triumph
Evelyn Raymond

Raymond Evelyn

Dorothy's Triumph

CHAPTER I

ON THE TRAIN

“Maryland, my Maryland!” dreamily hummed Dorothy Calvert.

“Not only your Maryland, but mine,” was the resolute response of the boy beside her.

Dorothy turned on him in surprise.

“Why, Jim Barlow, I thought nothing could shake your allegiance to old New York state; you’ve told me so yourself dozens of times, and – ”

“I know, Dorothy; I’ve thought so myself, but since my visit to old Bellvieu, and our trip on the houseboat, I’ve – I’ve sort o’ changed my mind.”

“You don’t mean that you’re coming to live with Aunt Betty and I again, Jim? Oh, you just can’t mean that! Why, we’d be so delighted!”

“No, I don’t mean just that,” responded Jim, rather glumly – “in fact, I don’t know just what I mean myself, except I feel like I must be always near you and Mrs. Calvert.”

“Say Aunt Betty, Jim.”

“Well, Aunt Betty.”

“You know she is an aunt to you, in the matter of affection, if not by blood.”

“I do know that, and I appreciate all she did for me before she got well enough acquainted with you to believe she wanted you to live with her forever.”

“Say, Jim, dear, often when I ponder over my life it seems like some brilliant dream. Just think of being left a squalling baby for Mrs. Calvert, my great-aunt, to take care of, then sent to Mother Martha and Father John, because Aunt Betty felt that she should be free from the care of raising a troublesome child. Then, after I’ve grown into a sizable girl, in perfect ignorance as to my real parentage, Aunt Betty meets and likes me, and is anxious to get me back again. Then Judge Breckenridge and others take a hand in the matter of hunting up my real name and pedigree, with the result that Aunt Betty finally owns up to my being her kith and kin, and receives me with open arms at Deerhurst. Since then, I, Dorothy Elisabeth Somerset-Calvert, F. F. V., etc., etc., changed from near-poverty to at least a comfortable living, with all my heart could desire and more, have had one continuous good time. Yes, Jim, it is too strange and too good to be true.”

“But it is true,” protested the boy – “true as gospel, Dorothy. You are one of the finest little ladies in the land and no one will ever dispute it.”

“Oh, I wasn’t fishing for compliments.”

“Well, you got ’em just the same, didn’t you? And you deserve ’em.”

The train on which Dorothy and Jim, together with Ephraim, Aunt Betty’s colored man, were riding, was already speeding through the broad vales of Maryland, every moment bringing it nearer the city of Baltimore and Old Bellvieu, the ancestral home of the Calverts, where Mrs. Elisabeth Cecil Somerset-Calvert, familiarly termed, “Aunt Betty,” would be awaiting them.

Since being “taken into the fold” by Aunt Betty, after years of living with Mother Martha and Father John, to whom she had sent the child as a nameless foundling, Dorothy had, indeed, been a happy girl, as her experiences related in the previous volumes of this series, “House Party,” “In California,” “,” “House Boat,” and “At Oak Knowe,” will attest.

Just now she was returning from the Canadian school of Oak Knowe, where she had spent a happy winter. Mrs. Calvert had been unable to meet her in the Dominion, as she had intended, but had sent Jim and Ephraim, the latter insisting that he was needed to help care for his little mistress. Soon after the commencement exercises were over the trio had left for Dorothy’s home.

And such a commencement as it had been! Dorothy could still hear ringing in her ears the rather solemn, deep-toned words of the Bishop who conferred the diplomas and prizes, as he had said:

“To Miss Dorothy Calvert for uniform courtesy.” Then again: “To Miss Dorothy Calvert, for advancement in music.”

“The dear old Bishop!” she cried, aloud, as she thought again of the good times she had left behind her.

“‘The dear old Bishop’?” Jim repeated, a blank expression on his face. “And who, please, is the dear old Bishop?”

“I’d forgotten you did not meet him, Jim. He’s the head director of the school at Oak Knowe, and one of the very dearest of men. I shall never forget my first impression of him – a venerable man, with a queer-shaped cap on his head, and wearing knee breeches and gaiters, much as our old Colonial statesmen were wont to do. ‘So this is my old friend, Betty Calvert’s child, is it?’ he said. Dorothy imitated the bass tones of a man with such precision that Jim smiled in spite of himself. ‘Well, well! You’re as like her as possible – yet only her great-niece. Ha! Hum!’ etc., etc. Then he put his arm around me and drew me to his side, and, Jim, I can’t tell you how comfortable I felt, for I was inclined to be homesick, ’way up there so far from Aunt Betty. But he cured me of it, and asked Miss Muriel Tross-Kingdon to care for me.”

“Miss Muriel Tross-Kingdon?”

“Why, yes – the Lady Principal. You met her, Jim. You surely remember her kind greeting the night the prizes and diplomas were conferred. She was very courteous to you, I thought, considering the fact that she is so haughty and dignified.”

“Don’t believe I’d like to go to a girls’ school,” said Jim.

“Why, of course, you wouldn’t, silly – being a boy.”

“But I mean if I was a girl.”

“Why?”

“Oh, the life there is too dull.”

“What do you know about life at a girls’ school, Jim?”

“Well, I’ve heard a few things. I tell you, there must be plenty of athletics to make school or college life interesting.”

“Athletics? My dear boy, didn’t you see the big gym at Oak Knowe? Not a day passed but we girls performed our little feats on rings and bars, and as for games in the open air, Oak Knowe abounds with them. Look at me! Did you ever see a more rugged picture of health?”

“You seem to be in good condition, all right,” Jim confessed.

“Seem to be? I am,” corrected Dorothy.

“Well, just as you say. I won’t argue the point. I’m very glad to know you’ve become interested in athletics. That’s one good thing Miss Muriel Tross-Kingdon has done for you, anyway.”

“Jim, I don’t like your tone. Do you mean to insinuate that otherwise my course at Oak Knowe has been a failure?”

“No, no, Dorothy; you misunderstood me. You’ve benefited greatly, no doubt – at least, you’ve upheld the honor of the United States in a school almost filled with English girls. And that’s something to be proud of.”

“Not all were English, Jim. Of course, Gwendolyn Borst-Kennard and her chum, Laura Griswold, were members of the peerage. But the majority of the girls were just everyday folks like you and I have been used to associating with all our lives. Even Millikins-Pillikins was more like an American than an English girl.”

“‘Millikins-Pillikins’!” sniffed Jim. “What a name to burden a girl with!”

“Oh, that’s only a nickname; her real name is Grace Adelaide Victoria Tross-Kingdon.”

“Worse and more of it!”

“Jim!” she protested sternly.

“I beg your pardon, Dorothy – no offense meant. Millikins-Pillikins is related to Miss Muriel Tross-Kingdon, I suppose?”

“Certainly.”