Nor was he the only one to make them useful; for it followed that the Deerhurst “infair,” begun on the night before and planned to extend over several days must be abruptly ended. The hostess was herself summoned elsewhere, to attend the sick bed of a lifelong friend, and the summons was not one to be denied. Even while she was reading the brief note she knew that she must forsake her post and with a thrill of pride reflected that now she had one of her own kin to install in her place. Young as Dorothy was she must act as the hostess of Deerhurst, even to these gray-headed guests now gathered there. But, presently it appeared, that there would be no guests to entertain. President Ryall was needed to supervise some changes at his college; merchant Ihrie must hasten to disentangle some badly mixed business affairs; Dr. Mantler would miss the “most interesting case on record if he did not come at once to his hospital;” and so, to the four old “boys,” who had camped together in the Markland forests, the end of playtime had indeed come, and each after his kind must resume his man’s work for the world.
Young Tom Hungerford’s furlough from West Point expired that morning, and his mother felt that when he returned to the Academy she must establish herself for a time at the hotel near-by. At her invitation Mrs. Cook and Melvin were to accompany her; that these Nova Scotians might see something of lads’ military training outside their own beloved Province.
Catching the general spirit of unrest, Miss Greatorex suddenly announced that it was time she returned to the Rhinelander. Maybe she dreaded being left the only adult in the house, for as yet no mention had been made as to the disposal of her charges, Molly and Dolly. Certainly, she felt that having been burdened with their cares during the long summer she was entitled to a few days’ rest before the beginning of a new school year. The lady added:
“Besides all that, I shall have no more than sufficient time to arrange my specimens that I obtained in Markland.”
A short silence fell once more upon that company in the breakfast room, and somehow the brilliant sunshine seemed to dim as if a storm were rising; or was it but a mist of disappointment rising to Dorothy’s eyes as she glanced from one to another and realized how well she loved them each and all, and how sad the parting was.
But her last glance fell upon her Aunt Betty’s face and she bravely smiled back into the kindly eyes so tenderly smiling upon her. After all, that was the Calvert way! To meet whatever came with “head erect and colors flying,” and she, too, was Calvert. She’d prove it! Cried she, with that characteristic toss of her brown curls:
“Well, if everybody must– what can I do to help? As for you two, darling ‘father’ and ‘mother,’ I hope nothing’s going to take you away from Deerhurst all of a sudden, like the rest!”
But there was, although there was no suddenness in this decision. As they presently informed her, the crippled ex-postman had made himself so useful at the sanitarium where he had spent the summer that he had been offered a permanent position there, at a larger salary than he had ever received as letter-carrier in Baltimore. He had also secured for his wife Martha a position as matron of the institution; and the independence thus achieved meant more to that ambitious woman than even a care-free home with her beloved foster-child. The death of their old aunt had released Martha from that separation from her husband which had so sorely tried her and, though sorry to part again from Dorothy, she was still a very happy woman.
“We shall always love one another, Dolly dear, but we’ve come to ‘the parting of the ways.’ Each as the Lord leads, little girl; but what is the reason, now that Mrs. Calvert’s grown-up party has ended, what is the reason, I say, that you don’t give a House Party of your very own?”
CHAPTER II
CHOOSING THE GUESTS
Those who must go went quickly. By trains and boats, the various guests who had gathered at Deerhurst to welcome Dorothy’s home-coming had departed, and at nightfall the great house seemed strangely empty and deserted. Even Ma Babcock had relinquished her post as temporary housekeeper and had hurried across the river to nurse a seriously ill neighbor.
“I may be back tomorrer and I may not be back till the day after never! I declare I’m all of a fluster, what with Mis’ Calvert goin’ away sort of leavin’ me in charge – though them old colored folks o’ her’n didn’t like that none too well! – and me havin’ to turn my back on duty this way. But sickness don’t wait for time nor tide and typhoid’s got to be tended mighty sharp; and I couldn’t nohow refuse to go to one Mis’ Judge Satterlee’s nieces, she that’s been as friendly with me as if I was a regular ’ristocratic like herself. No, when a body’s earned a repitation for fetchin’ folks through typhoid you got to live up to it. Sorry, Dolly C.; but I’ll stow the girls, Barry and Clarry and the rest, ’round amongst the neighbors somewhere, ’fore I start. As for you, Alfy – ”
“Oh, Mrs. Babcock! Don’t take Alfy away! Please, please don’t!” cried Dorothy, fairly clutching at the matron’s flying skirts, already disappearing through the doorway.
Mrs. Babcock switched herself free and answered through the opening:
“All right. Alfy can do as she likes. She can go down help tend store to Liza Jane’s, t’other village, where she’s been asked to go more’n once, or finish her visit to you. Ary one suits me so long as you don’t let nor hender me no more.”
Not all of this reply was distinct, for it was finished on the floor above, whither the energetic farm-wife had sped to “pack her duds”; but enough was heard to set Alfaretta skipping around the room in an ecstasy of delight, exclaiming:
“I’m to be to the House Party! Oh! I’m to be to the Party!”
But this little episode had been by daylight, and now the dusk had fallen. The great parlors were shut and dark. Prudent old Ephraim had declared:
“I ain’t gwine see my Miss Betty’s substance wasted, now she’s outer de way he’se’f. One lamp in de hall’s ernuf fo’ seein’ an’ doan’ none yo chillen’s go foolin’ to ast mo’.”
So the long halls were dim and full of shadows; the wind had risen and howled about the windows, which were being carefully shuttered by the servants against the coming storm which Dinah prophesied would prove the “ekernoctial” and a “turr’ble one”; and to banish the loneliness which now tormented her, Dorothy proposed:
“Let’s go into the library. There’s a fine fire on the hearth and the big lamp is stationary. Ephraim can’t find fault with us for using that. We’ll make out a list of the folks to ask. You, Alfy, shall do the writing, you do write such a fine, big hand. Come on, Molly girl! I’m so glad you begged to stay behind your Auntie Lu. Aren’t you?”
“Ye-es, I reckon so!” answered the little Southerner, with unflattering hesitation. “But it’s mighty lonesome in this big house without her and West Point’s just – just heavenly!”
“Any place would be ‘heavenly’ to you, Molly Breckenridge, that was full of boys!” retorted Dolly. “But don’t fancy you’d be allowed to see any of those cadets even if you were there. Beg pardon, girlie, I don’t want to be cross, but how can I have a decent party if you don’t help? Besides, there’s Monty and Jim left. They ought to count for something.”
“Count for mighty little, seems if, the way they sneak off by themselves and leave us alone. Gentlemen, Southern gentlemen, wouldn’t act that way!”
“Oh, sillies! What’s the use of spoiling a splendid time? It’s just like a cow givin’ a pailful of milk then turnin’ round and kickin’ it over!” cried good-natured Alfy, throwing an arm around each girl’s shoulders and playfully forcing her into the cheery library and into a great, soft chair. Of course, they all laughed and hugged one another and acknowledged that they had been “sillies” indeed; and a moment later three girlish heads were bending together above the roomy table, whereon was set such wonderful writing materials as fairly dazzled Alfaretta’s eyes. So impressed was she that she exclaimed as if to herself:
“After all, I guess I won’t be a trained nurse nor a opera singer. I’ll be a writin’ woman and have just such pens and things as these.”
“Oh, Alfy, you funny dear! You change your mind just as often as I used to!”
“Don’t you change it no more, then, Dorothy C.?” demanded the other, quickly.
“No. I don’t think I shall ever change it again. I shall do everything the best I can, my music and lessons and all that, but it’ll be just for one thing. I lay awake last night wondering how best I could prove grateful for all that’s come to me and I reckon I’ve found out, and it’s so – so simple, too.”
“Ha! Let’s hear this fine and simple thing, darling Dolly Doodles, and maybe we’ll both follow your illustrious example!” cried Molly, smiling.
“To – to make everybody I know as – as happy as I can;” answered the other slowly.
“Huh! That’s nothing! And you can begin right now, on ME!” declared Miss Alfaretta Babcock, with emphasis.
“How?”
“Help me to tell who’s to be invited.”
“All right. Head the list with Alfaretta Babcock.”
“Cor-rect! I’ve got her down already. Next?”
“Molly Breckenridge.”
“Good enough. Down she goes. Wait till I get her wrote before you say any more.”
They waited while Alfy laboriously inscribed the name and finished with the exclamation:
“That’s the crookedest back-name I ever wrote.”
“You acted as if it hurt you, girlie! You wriggled your tongue like they do in the funny pictures;” teased Molly, but the writer paid no heed.
“Next?”
“Dorothy Calvert.”
“So far so good. But them three’s all girls. To a party there ought to be as many boys. That’s the way we did to our last winter’s school treat,” declared Alfaretta.
“Well, there’s Jim Barlow. He’s a boy.”
“He’s no party kind of a boy,” objected Molly, “and he’s only —us. She hasn’t anybody down that isn’t us, so far. We few can’t make a whole party.”
But Dolly and Alfy were wholly serious.
“Montmorency Vavasour-Stark,” suggested the former, and the writer essayed that formidable name. Then she threw down the pen in dismay, exclaiming:
“You’ll have to indite that yourself or spell it out to me letter by letter. He’ll take more’n a whole line if I write him to match the others.”