dorothy had been at the cedars one short, delightful week when again the question of tavia and her plans came up for serious consideration. mrs. white and her niece sat out on the veranda, with the early summer flowers perfuming the soft zephyrs that came through the vine-covered lattice, and they were talking of the absent one—wondering why she did not come to birchland and instead went to the city in the summer—to buffalo when everybody in the place (except the tourists on the way to niagara to the falls), were leaving for more quiet and recreative surroundings.
“i’m afraid,” said mrs. white finally, “that tavia is ‘stage-struck.’”
these words came to dorothy like a blow—something long dreaded but materialized at last—in spite of hopes and promises.
“oh, aunt winnie!” exclaimed dorothy with a sigh, “you don’t really think tavia would do anything wrong?”
[107]
“no, that i do not, my dear,” promptly answered mrs. white. “a thing is not wrong unless we intend to make it so. but tavia has a queer idea of right and wrong. you know she has had no home discipline—no training in character building. she has grown to be as good as she is through the commonest law of nature—she was born good. but she has not gone beyond that same law in growing better than she started out to be—that is moral development, and requires careful culture and prudent discipline.”
“but the stage,” whispered dorothy, as if afraid the very word would breathe contamination. “do you think—tavia would—would ever try to—to go on a public stage?”
“on that point i could not now express an opinion,” answered the aunt kindly, noticing how seriously dorothy had taken her words. “of course if she happened to get in with persons interested in that line of work—she might be tempted to try it.”
“but what could she do? there are no plays now—it is summer time!”
“the very time, my dear, when small companies try to get a hearing. there are no good plays to attract persons, and the stay-at-homes need some amusement.”
[108]
this had not occurred to dorothy before. her dread of tavia going on the stage had been kept within bounds by the thought that there were no plays given in any of the theatres, for dorothy knew little about such things, and had never given a thought to those small companies—the “barnstormers.”
“well,” she announced with a sigh, “i believe i will have to write to her. i can not rest and not know just where she is. somehow i feel as if my own sister had deserted me—as if she were out among strangers. oh, aunt winnie, you can not realize how much tavia has always been to me!” and dorothy dropped her head in her hands to hide the expression of sincere grief that marked her face.
“well, child, there is absolutely no need to worry. no doubt tavia is snugly home at this moment, with her own, little, old-fashioned mother—or even out in buffalo enjoying the visit to her mother’s friends. to sit down and imagine all sorts of horrible things—why, dorothy, it is very unlike you!”
“perhaps i am silly,” dorothy agreed, smiling brightly as she looked up, “but you know tavia has been so odd lately. and then she was sick, you know.”
[109]
dorothy looked off across the lawn, but she seemed to see nothing. perhaps she had a day-vision of her friend far away, but whatever dorothy imagined was far from what tavia was actually engaged in at that moment.
“well, come, my dear,” said her aunt at length. “the boys are waiting with the auto. see what a spin through the country will do for tired nerves. i tell you this winding up of school is always trying—more so than you can imagine. you are, after all, pretty well tired out, in spite of your pretty pink cheeks,” and she tilted dorothy’s chin up to reach her own lips, just as nat swung himself up on the porch and demanded the immediate presence of his aunt, and cousin, in the fire bird that panted at the door.
but, somehow, the afternoon was all lost on dorothy. those words “stage-struck” echoed in her ears and she longed to get back to her room and write to tavia and then to receive the answer that she might show it to aunt winnie, to prove that tavia was as reliable as ever—that she would soon be with them all at north birchland.
[110]
when, after a spin, that on any other occasion would have been delightful, ned alighted at the little village post-office, dorothy asked him to bring her out two special delivery stamps. her cousin inquired what the rush of mail was for, but she only smiled and tried to hide the fact that she really had occasion to provide for sending a letter in a hurry, and receiving its reply as fast as uncle sam could bring it.
they started off again, and a long, exhilarating spin brought them out upon the direct road to the cedars. then, after helping their mother and dorothy out, the boys “shooed” the fire bird back to its “nest,” and made a dash to witness the last inning of a ball game that had been in progress all the afternoon on the grounds, just across the broad meadow, that stretched in front of their home.
this left dorothy to herself, for the major had finally listened to roger’s earnest appeal to take him to the ball game. joe went with the boys who carried the bats—as the latter was always sure to be on time. then, as mrs. white would be busy for some time, giving orders for dinner, dorothy hurried to her room, and sat down, to think it all out, before she undertook to put into written words what she wanted to say to tavia.
as dorothy had said to her aunt the loss of tavia’s companionship was like missing that of a dear sister, for the two girls had been inseparable since early childhood. they had always been together, or they knew they would be apart but for a few days at most.
[111]
but now it was different. heretofore each time that dorothy thought she would have to be obliged to leave tavia, either to attend school, or take some new step in life, it so happened that tavia went along, so that the chain of companionship that began at dalton had not yet been broken.
and, of course, dorothy’s worries might all be unfounded. as mrs. white had said, tavia might be safe at home with her mother.
so it was to dalton that dorothy addressed her letter. she needed to be particular in wording it, so that no misunderstanding would arise, should the letter fall into other hands than tavia’s. dorothy enclosed a special delivery stamp for a hurried answer, which she begged tavia to send, and she put another of the stamps on the envelope of her own missive.
“there,” she said with a sigh of relief as she slipped the little cream-colored square into her blouse. “i shall just have time to run to the office with it before dinner. somehow i feel better already. it almost seems as if i had been talking to tavia. i will surely have an answer by to-morrow night. i do wonder—oh, i wonder where tavia is—and what she is doing just now!”
[112]
it was a pleasant walk to the country post-office, and dorothy hurried along in a happier frame of mind than she had enjoyed during all that day. the small worry that had been smouldering in her heart for some weeks (ever since the night of tavia’s queer actions in her sleep when she painted her face with the red crayon) did not need much encouragement to burst forth into a live flame.
and that was precisely what happened when nat also expressed the opinion that tavia should have come to north birchland and that buffalo was “a big place for such a small girl.” then, that dorothy’s aunt should state plainly her fear regarding tavia’s love for the stage,—surely all this was enough to throw dorothy into a very fever of anxiety.
that dorothy knew of tavia’s strange actions on that one occasion, and that she alone, was aware of this, added to the anxiety. the book “how to act” had betrayed tavia’s secret in clearer terms than even dorothy would admit to herself. but if tavia should run away! and if dorothy had not warned the travers folks in time!
[113]
that evening, after mailing her letter, dorothy made an excuse to leave the rest of the family and so remained in her own room. she wanted to be alone—to think. in fact, she had been so accustomed to those little solitary thinking spells in glenwood that the time at the cedars seemed to be a trifle too exacting. the boys wanted to be with their sister, and mrs. white had so much to talk over (it was so delightful to have a “big daughter” to converse with), then the major needed dorothy’s counsel in many small, but important matters, so that, altogether, the girl from glenwood found herself busy—just a little too busy, considering the problem she was trying to solve, which was how to get immediately into communication with tavia.
that night she dreamed of it all, and for three days following the mailing of her letter she could scarcely think of anything other then why the expected answer did not arrive.
finally, dorothy felt that she must take some one into her confidence. all the nervous energy of her young nature had, for days, been so set upon that one point—to hear from tavia—that the whole circumstance had assumed great importance. she could think of nothing else. every hour added to her anxiety. she imagined all sorts of dreadful things. yes, she must tell somebody of it and thus relieve her mind or she felt she would be ill. this seemed to her the greatest trouble she had ever encountered.
[114]
it was a delightful summer evening when dorothy, dressed in her sea-foam mulle gown, with its dainty silver white trimmings stepped out on the porch, and had the good fortune to find nat there alone. it was to her young cousin that she had made up her mind to confide her worries, and here he was, as if he was just waiting to help her in this matter of her own heart and tavia’s.
“great scott! but you startled me!” exclaimed nat, jumping up from the hammock. “i do believe, doro, that i had clean forgotten that you were with us—no offense—but you see i was sort of dreaming and when you glided through that window—well—i say, doro, i thought my dream had come true!”
“nat, could you come for a little walk?” asked dorothy. “you should not dream so early, and besides, you should not, at any time, dream of young girls. you admitted as much, you know. but nat, i just want a quiet talk—come out along the road as far as the bridge. i want to make sure we are entirely alone.”
[115]
“now you don’t expect me to move the bridge, do you, doro? we may be all alone with the exception of the old stone walls and the planks.”
tucking dorothy’s arm under his own, nat led the way down the path, then out upon the open road, which was now streaked with faint beams of moonlight, that filtered down through the trees. nat seemed to feel that dorothy wanted to talk of tavia, for he had not been slow to notice the growing look of anxiety that had come upon his cousin’s face in the last few days.
“heard from tavia?” he asked in a matter-of-fact way, thinking to help dorothy on with her story.
“no, nat,” she answered, “and that is just what i want to talk about. i am almost worried to death about her. whatever do you think it means?”
“think what what means? that tavia has not answered a letter? why that doesn’t mean anything—at least it didn’t last winter, when she would write me for something she wanted me to get for her, and forget to write again saying she had received it. i suppose all girls think they should take their time writing to a fellow, but tavia was about the limit. so you have no reason to fret, as she will probably write to you the day she packs her trunk to come to the cedars. then she won’t have time to mail the letter, so, when she gets here, and steams off the uncancelled stamp, she will calmly hand over the note. now that’s tavia and her way of being prompt.”
[116]
“but this is different,” said dorothy. “i did not know tavia wrote to you last winter.”
“now don’t go to romancing. i believe i did get two letters from miss travers in answer to five i had written to her. it was about that little colored boy you heard me joking about—some imp tavia had taken a fancy to, and she wanted to get him a small express wagon. so she wrote to me, being aware of my unusual ability in the line of selecting suitable express wagons for little colored boys.”
“but listen, nat,” exclaimed dorothy, eagerly, “i wrote to dalton a week ago to-day, sent a special delivery stamp for a quick reply, and i haven’t heard a word since.”
“oh, that’s it. you sent a special stamp. that was where you made a big mistake. miss tavia wanted to write to that girl in buffalo—had been putting it off as usual—and when she saw your blue stamp it brought her the inspiration. she wrote to ‘dolly,’ if dolly is her name, used your stamp, and ‘dolly’ answered ‘come.’ tavia went. there you are. now what do you think of me as a wireless sleuth?”
[117]
“do you really think tavia is in buffalo?” asked dorothy, endeavoring to bring her cousin down to a common-sense viewpoint.
“sure of it. but, say, doro. i’ll tell you what! i’ll just take a fly in the fire bird to-morrow morning, and find out for you for sure. that will be better than the special delivery boy on his bicycle that never moves. i’ll be back by lunch time.”
“oh, that will be splendid!” cried dorothy, giving her cousin’s arm a tight squeeze. “you see i could not trust another letter, and i’m so anxious to know. oh, nat, you are the very best cousin—”
“not so bad,” interrupted nat, “when it comes to special messengers. but, little cousin, you can depend on me. i won’t let any one hold up the automobile mail coach.”
