Dorothy's Triumph

“Perhaps my lawyers might – ” Aunt Betty began.

Herr Deichenberg raised his hand in dissent.

“Madame, it iss unnecessary. I am familiar with every form of contract und I say to you dat de one offered your niece by Mr. Ludlow is equitable and just, and can only be to her advantage.”

“We will take your word, of course,” replied Aunt Betty. “The only reason I spoke is that neither Dorothy or myself is well versed in contracts of any sort.”

“The very reason why I prepared the contract after suggestions offered by Herr Deichenberg,” said Mr. Ludlow with a good-natured smile.

“Oh, Aunt Betty!” cried Dorothy, as she read the document, “for one appearance in New York, I am to receive one hundred dollars and my expenses both ways. I think that is a very liberal offer.”

“Merely a pittance, Miss Calvert, beside what you will get if your concert pleases the music lovers of the metropolis, who, as you are no doubt aware, are the most discriminating in the country.”

“Oh, I hope I shall please them. I shall try so hard.”

“You just leave dat to me,” said Herr Deichenberg. “Any young lady who played as you did at my concert, need have no fear of facing a metropolitan audience.”

“The plan is, Miss Calvert,” Mr. Ludlow went on, in a thoroughly business-like tone, “if your New York concert proves a success, for you to sign contracts to appear next season under my management in the principal cities of the country. When we know positively that this is advisable, we will discuss terms, and I assure you we shall not quarrel over the matter of a few dollars, more or less.”

“I’m sure we won’t,” replied Dorothy.

Aunt Betty found herself hoping for the success of the plan. All opposition to the matter seemed, for the time, to have slipped her mind.

Mr. Ludlow bade them good-by shortly after, and left in company with Herr Deichenberg.

Dorothy closed the door softly behind them, then, happy that her ambition was at last to become a reality, threw herself in the arms of Aunt Betty and sobbed:

“Oh, auntie, auntie, it has come at last, but it won’t – it won’t take me away from you.”

“We must not be too sure of that, my dear,” Aunt Betty replied, as calmly as she could. Her wildly-beating heart cried out for the love and sympathy that she knew only this girl could give her. How could she ever, ever bear to give her up?

“Auntie, dear,” Dorothy said, straightening up and wiping her eyes with quick, nervous little dabs, “if such a thing as separation is even suggested, I shall never move a step from old Bellvieu – never, never!”

“Oh, my dear, I cannot expect you to give up a great career for me.”

“What would any sort of a career be without you? Nothing – absolutely nothing! I wouldn’t listen to it for a moment. Where I go there you shall go also.”

“But I am getting too old to travel.”

Aunt Betty’s protest, however, sounded rather feeble.

“Nonsense!” the girl replied. “You were the very life of our camping party, and I’m sure riding in railroad trains is not half so strenuous as speeding forty miles an hour over country roads in an automobile. No objections, now, auntie dear, unless you want me to give up my career before it is begun.”

“No, no, of course, I – ”

“Of course you don’t want me to do that. Certainly not. For that very reason, if for no other, you are going to accompany me wherever I go, which means that you may as well start planning that new spring dress, for we will be traveling New Yorkward ere many weeks have passed.”

“Do you think blue would be becoming, dear?”

Dorothy could have laughed outright with delight, when she saw how quickly Aunt Betty became lost in contemplation over what she should wear on the trip.

“Well, yes, if it is of the proper shade, auntie, but you know nothing becomes you so well as black.”

“Black it shall be, then – black panama, with a nice new bonnet to match.”

“And I, auntie, dear, what shall I wear? How are we to afford all these fine things when our finances are at a low ebb?”

“Our finances are in better condition than they were, dear. A letter a few days since from my lawyers, states that certain property I have placed in their hands is rapidly increasing in value, and that I shall be able to realize from time to time such sums as I may need.”

“Oh, I’m so glad! Strange you didn’t tell me.”

“I’d forgotten it. I really believe I am getting absent-minded.”

Had Dorothy known the truth – that though the lawyers had agreed to advance certain sums, it meant a mortgage on old Bellvieu, her peace of mind would have been sadly disturbed.

But Aunt Betty took good care she did not know it – self-sacrificing soul that she was.

CHAPTER XIII

IN THE METROPOLIS

New York!

A magic word to Dorothy Calvert, and as she stepped from the train in the great Pennsylvania railway station, curiosity and interest were expressed in her glance. Not since her trip to California with Aunt Betty and Ephraim had the girl been in Gay Gotham, which, to her, had always been a place of great enchantment.

The noise of the trains, the clangor of trucks, as they were whirled up and down the station platform by the baggagemen; the noise of the subway and surface cars, mingled with countless other sounds, were sufficient to distract any girl’s attention, and Dorothy came out of her reverie and turned, only when Aunt Betty cried out from the car steps:

“Dorothy Calvert, wherever are you going?”

“Oh, I – ”

“Are you going to leave me behind?”

“I – I – why, auntie – I – ”

“One would think you had never been in a great city before. Wait for me! Remember, I am going everywhere you go. You did not bring me this far from Bellvieu to leave me in the lurch, young lady.”

“Goodness knows, I had no idea of doing anything of the sort, auntie.”

“Well, you just wait! I’m not as spry as I used to be.”

Jim Barlow carefully helped Aunt Betty to the platform, while Ephraim followed with a load of suit cases. Then came Herr and Frau Deichenberg, each with a little hand satchel, the professor guarding jealously his beloved violin. No heavy luggage for the Deichenbergs, the Frau had told Aunt Betty on the journey up from Baltimore.

“Ve shan’t be here for long; de concert occurs to-morrow night, und ve shall go straight back home vhen ve are t’rough,” was the way she put it.

The Herr was attired in his customary black. He had maintained his usual phlegmatic manner all through the journey, and apparently had no intention of departing from it now. Having spent many years in New York after his arrival in America, the city’s fascination for the average mortal seemed to make no appeal to him.

Once off the train, Jim began to search diligently in the crowd for a familiar face. For a moment a blank look expressed his disappointment. Then his features lighted up and he waved his hand at a tall, spectacled gentleman who came eagerly forward to meet him.