Читать книгу Dorothy Dale's Great Secret - Penrose Margaret - Страница 3

“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.

“We always told each other everything,” and Dorothy almost sighed, as her words came slowly, and with strange coldness. “I never imagined you would keep any important secret from me.”

“You silly!” exclaimed Tavia, throwing her arms around Dorothy this time. “Who said I had a secret? What in the world has put that wild notion into your yellow head? – bless it!”

This last expression brought a kiss to the golden ringlets, and, as the two girls sat there, Dorothy with a far-away look in her eyes that were clouded with unbidden tears, Tavia with her cheek pressed lovingly against the blond head, and her own eyes looking into some unknown future, their pose was like a stage picture – the kind usually presented when one sister is about to leave a country home, and the other bids her stay.

“Aren’t we a couple of jays!” broke in Tavia, as soon as she appeared to realize the melo-dramatic effect. “I declare we ought to travel as ‘The Glum Sisters – Mag and Liz.’ There! Wouldn’t we make a hit for teary ones? Weeps are in great demand they say. Smiles are being overworked in the profresh!” and she strode up to the mirror with a most self-satisfied glance at her pretty face.

“Tavia, you are getting awfully big for slang – it seems more like sneering than joking,” exclaimed Dorothy. “And I’ve been wanting to say that to you – some of the other girls have noticed it. They say you act more like a chorus girl than a Glenwood pupil. Of course I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I thought it would be better for me to tell you than for you to hear it from some one else.”

“Chorus girl! Thanks! No need to apologize, I assure you. That’s from silly, little Nita Brandt, I suppose? Well, better to act like a chorus girl than – a fool!” blurted out Tavia with a show of temper. “And any silly girl, who can not keep things to herself – well, I always thought Nita was a featherhead and now I know it!”

“Oh, indeed it was not Nita!” Dorothy hastened to assure her. “It was at the lawn tea the other day. You were ‘acting’; don’t you remember? Doing that funny toe dance you are always trying lately.”

“O-o-o-o-h!” and Tavia made a queer little pout, and a very funny face. “So they appreciated my maiden effort, eh? I am indeed flattered! Tell the girls I’m much obliged and I’ll see that they get passes for the initial performance. Tell them, also, to have the bouquets tagged – it’s so annoying to have a great stack of ‘Please accepts’ to answer, with the superscriptions ‘cut out’ so to speak. I know all the girls will send pansies – they are so sweet, and would make such wicked faces for the girls who could not conveniently present their own adorable ‘phizes’!”

“What in the world are you talking about?” asked Dorothy, who had been listening to the outburst with a queer idea that all this stage business was not mere idle chatter – that there might be a reason for Tavia’s cynicism.

“Talking about auto rides,” quietly answered Tavia, recovering herself with an effort. “Wasn’t that a dandy this afternoon? And to think we might have missed that ‘Horatius at the bridge’ business if I had been silly enough to mention that the planking was gone!”

“Don’t talk of it!” exclaimed Dorothy, shuddering. “I cannot bear to think of what might have happened. And, Tavia, you must not think I have adopted the lecture platform for good, but I must say, it was careless of you not to mention about the bridge – especially as you knew what a hill led down to it, and how the Fire Bird can cover hills.”

“Of course you know I entirely forgot it, Doro,” and now Tavia showed some remorse at the reprimand.

“My! There’s the bell!” exclaimed Dorothy as a clang sounded down the corridor. “I had no idea it was so late,” and she jumped up to disrobe. “Quick, or Miss Higley will see our light.”

“Let her,” answered Tavia indifferently. “I don’t feel very well, and would just love something warm – say a nice little cup of tea – ”

A tap at the door interrupted her remarks. Dorothy jumped into a large closet and Tavia calmly opened the portal.

It was Miss Higley, the second assistant teacher, with rather a forbidding expression on her wrinkled face, and who, among the girls, bore a reputation characterized as “sour.”

“Why is this?” she demanded, stepping in and brushing Tavia aside.

“I was just thinking of calling you,” answered Tavia, clapping her hand to her waist line. “I have such a dreadful – Oh, dear!” and she sat down without further explanation.

“Do you need anything?” asked Miss Higley, her tone more kindly.

“Oh, no; certainly not,” sighed Tavia. “I would not trouble you. But if I might have a sip of tea – that tea you brought Dorothy did her so much good the other night.”

She paused to allow a proper expression of agony to spread over her face, and gently rubbed her hand over the region covered by her belt.

“I suppose you made that tea yourself, didn’t you? It was so good, Dorothy told me.”

That settled it. For any one to praise Miss Higley’s brew! So few persons really do appreciate a good cup of tea. As usual Tavia had “won out.”

“Why of course I’ll get you a cup. I have just made a small pot – I felt rather – rather tired myself. I don’t, as a rule, drink tea at night, but I was not altogether well. Where is Dorothy?”

“Just slipping on a robe,” with a glance at the closet where her chum was concealed. “I’m afraid I disturbed her,” went on Tavia glibly.

“Well, I’ll get the tea,” Miss Higley remarked, as she started to leave the room. “I’ll bring the pot here and we can take it together.”

“Quick!” called Tavia to Dorothy as the door closed. “Slip on your robe. Tea with Higley! Of all the doin’s!” and she promptly turned a somersault on the hitherto unrumpled bed. “Won’t the girls howl! I do hope she brings biscuits. There, get down your box, you precious miser! Just think of ‘crackering’ Higley!”

Dorothy appeared dumfounded. It had all been arranged so quickly – and there was Miss Higley back again. She carried a tray with a small china teapot and three blue cups to match.

“I thought Dorothy might like a cup,” she remarked in a sort of apologetic way. “There now,” as Tavia and Dorothy relieved her of the tray, “it will be pleasant to have a sip together. Of course we would not do it but for Octavia’s illness.” (Tavia looked to be in dreadful pain at that moment.) “But since we have to give her a cup of tea, we may as well make a virtue of necessity.”

“It is very kind of you, Miss Higley,” Dorothy said, rather hesitatingly. “I’m sure that we – that is I – I mean Tavia – should not have put you to all this trouble – but of course one can’t help being ill,” she hastened to add, for she felt she was rather giving Tavia’s secret away.

“It really is too bad to make all this fuss,” the supposed sufferer interjected. “You went to a lot of trouble for me, Miss Higley, and I appreciate it very much,” and Tavia winked the eye next to Dorothy, but concealed the sign from the sight of the instructress. Tavia was trying hard not to laugh, and her repressed emotion shook the tray to the no small danger of upsetting the teapot, cups and all.

“I never consider my duty any trouble,” answered Miss Higley, seeming to feel the obligation of being dignified. In fact, it did not occur to her just then that she was doing a most unprecedented thing – taking tea with two school girls, and after hours at that! However, she had committed herself, and now there was no way out. Dorothy presented her package of chocolate crackers, and Miss Higley took some, while Tavia arranged the tea tray on the little table.

Surely the scene was mirth-provoking. Dorothy in her pretty blue robe, Tavia with her hair loose, collar off and shoes unlaced, and Miss Higley, prim as ever, in her brown mohair, with the long black cord on her glasses. There the three sat, sipping tea and “making eyes,” – “too full for utterance,” as Tavia would say.

“Such lovely tea,” Dorothy managed to gulp out at the risk of allowing her mouth to get loose in a titter, once the tight line of silence was broken.

Then, all at once they stopped drinking – some one was coming down the hall. Miss Higley arose instantly. The gentle tap on the door was answered by Tavia.

Mrs. Pangborn!

“Oh,” she apologized, “I did not mean to disturb a little social tea. Do sit down, Honorah,” to Miss Higley. “I’m very glad to see you enjoying yourself,” and Mrs. Pangborn meant what she said.

“Oh, indeed, I merely came to administer to a sick girl. Octavia was suddenly taken with cramps.”

Mrs. Pangborn glanced at Tavia.

“But that cup of tea has made me feel so much better,” declared Dorothy’s room-mate, with that kind of truth that mere words make – the kind that challenges falsehood.

“I am always glad to see you looking after the girls, Honorah,” went on the principal, “but I am equally glad to see you consider yourself. I’m sure you have a perfect right to take a cup of tea here. My dear,” to Dorothy, “perhaps you have a sip left?”

Dorothy found there was another cup of the beverage, still warm in the little teapot, and this she poured into her own pink and white china cup for Mrs. Pangborn.

Miss Higley remained standing, seemingly too abashed to move.

“Do finish yours,” said Tavia, pushing the empty chair toward the embarrassed teacher.

But Tavia’s mirth showed through her alleged illness, and Miss Higley began to feel that she had been imposed upon.

“If you – if you will excuse me,” she stammered.

“Oh, do finish your tea,” begged Mrs. Pangborn, and so the severe little teacher was obliged to sit down again.

An hour later Tavia was still trying to “untwist her kinks,” as she described her attacks of muffled laughter.

“Oh, wasn’t it gloriotious!” she exclaimed. “To think I couldn’t get a single twinge in my entire system! If I only could put that sort of a cramp in alcohol, wouldn’t it be an heirloom to Glenwood!”

“Please do stop,” pleaded Dorothy, from under her quilt. “The next time they may bring a doctor and a stomach pump, and if you don’t let me go to sleep I do believe I will call her.”

“You dare to and I’ll get something dreadfully contagious, so you will have to be disinfected and isolated. But Higley the terrible! The abused little squinty-eyed tattle-tale! Oh, when Mrs. Pangborn said she was glad to see her enjoying herself! That persecuted saint enjoying herself! Didn’t she look the part?”

But even such mirth must succumb to slumber when the victim is young and impressionable, so, with yawns and titters, Tavia finally quieted down to sleep.