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Dorothy Dale At Glenwood School

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<h3> CHAPTER VIII </h3> <h4> AN INVERTED JOKE </h4> "Dorothy! Dorothy!" called Tavia. "Come here just a minute. I want to speak to you." "Won't you come in?" asked Dorothy, making her way to the side porch. "No, I can't, really. But I couldn't wait to tell you. I know what the Green Violet meant by her mean remarks. And it's too killing. I am just dead laughing over it." "I'm glad it's funny," said Dorothy. "The funniest ever," continued Tavia. "You know when we got out of the wagon Miss Green was standing a little way off from Alice. That dude, Tom Burbank, was with her (they say she always manages to get a beau), and she was watching us alight—you know how she can watch: like a cat. Well, Tom asked Nat what was the matter, and if he had been speeding. Everybody seemed to know we had gone off in the auto, for which blessing I am duly grateful. I don't often get a ride—" "Tavia, will you tell me the story?" asked Dorothy with some impatience. "Coming to it! Coming to it, my dear, but I never knew you to be so keen on a common, everyday story before," answered Tavia, with provoking delay. "The remarks?" "Oh, yes, as I was saying, Tom asked Nat were we speeding. And Nat said no. Then, looking down at his farmer clothes, he added: 'Not speeding, just melons.' And the dude believed him,—the goose! Then Viola took it all in and she too thinks we were arrested for stealing muskmelons." The idea seemed so absurd to Tavia that she went off into a new set of laughs, knotted together with groans—she had laughed so long that the process became actually painful. "Who told you?" asked Dorothy, as soon as Tavia had quieted herself sufficiently to hear anything. "May Egner. She stood by and heard the whole thing. But you must not mention it to Alice," cautioned Tavia, "for she didn't hear it, and I just want the Green Violet to think it is true, every word. It's a positive charity to give that girl something definitely mean to think about. I can see her mental picture of you and Nat and myself standing in a police court pleading 'Guilty' to being caught in a melon patch. Wish we had thought of it: there were plenty along that road, and I have not tasted a fresh muskmelon since I stole the last one from the old Garrabrant place. Ummm! but that was good!" "Well, I am glad it is no worse," remarked Dorothy. "I had a suspicion she was trying to insinuate something like that. And the idea of her not believing that Nat was my cousin!" "Oh, yes, and that was more of it," went on Tavia. "Tom asked Nat if I was his cousin and he said yes. Wasn't Nat funny to tease so? But who could blame him? I wish I had a chance to get my say in, I would have given Greenie a story! Not only melons, but a whole farm for mine!" "Lucky you were otherwise engaged then. I noticed you had your hands full answering the questions of that crowd of small boys," remarked Dorothy, smiling at the remembrance of Tavia's struggle with the curious ones. "But, Doro, are you really going away?" and Tavia's voice assumed a very different tone—it was mournful indeed. "Yes, I think it is quite decided. I would not mind it so much if you were coming." "Me? Poor me! No boarding school for my share. They do not run in our family," and she sighed. "But perhaps your fairy godmother might help you," went on Dorothy. "She has granted your wishes before." "Yes, and I promised her that time I would never trouble her again. There is a limit, you know, even to fairy godmothers." At that moment Mrs. White appeared on the porch. "What was that I heard about godmothers?" she asked. "You know, Dorothy, I hold that sacred position towards you, and you must not let any one malign the title," she said, laughingly. "Oh, this was the fairy kind," replied Dorothy. "Tavia was just saying she had promised to let hers off without further requests after the last was granted." "When Doro goes away to school," interrupted Tavia, "I shall either become a nun or—" "Go with her! How would that do?" asked Mrs. White, convinced that the parting of Dorothy and Tavia would mean a direct loss for both. "If I worked this year and earned the money to go next? Or do they consider the wage-earning class debarred from boarding school society?" asked Tavia. Again the sentiment Tavia had expressed to Dorothy: the difference in the classes. This was becoming a habit to Tavia, the habit of almost sneering at those who appeared better off than herself. And yet, as Mrs. White scrutinized her, she felt it was not a sentiment in any way allied to jealousy, but rather regret, or the sense of loss that the lot of Tavia Travers had been cast in a different mold to that of Dorothy Dale. It had to do entirely with Tavia's love for Dorothy. "Now, my dear," began Mrs. White, addressing Tavia, "you really must not speak that way. You know there is a class of people, too prominent nowadays, who believe that the rights of others should be their rights. That there should be no distinction in the ownership of property—" "Gloriotious!" exclaimed Tavia. "Do you suppose they would let me in their club?" "I'll tell you, girls," said Mrs. White. "Squire Travers is going to call here this evening by appointment. And if you are both very, very good little girls, perhaps I will have some very important news to give you in the morning." At this both Tavia and Dorothy "took steps," Tavia doing some original dance while Dorothy was content to join in the swing that her partner so violently insisted upon taking at every turn. Mrs. White laughed merrily at seeing the girls dance there in the honeysuckle-lined porch, and she was now more positive than ever that their companionship should not be broken. "All hands around!" called Tavia, at which invitation the stately society lady could not refrain from joining in the dance herself, and she went around and around until it was Dorothy who first had to give in and beg to be let out of the ring. "Oh!" sighed Mrs. White, quite exhausted, "that is the best real dance I have had in years—quite like our dear old German." "They call it the Virginia Reel in Dalton," said Tavia, not meaning to deprecate the value of the society dance mentioned. "Yes, and that is the correct name, too," agreed Mrs. White, "for almost all the good figures of the German were taken from the old time country dance. But I am warm! I must go in at once or I may check this perspiration too quickly. Dorothy, don't walk too far with Tavia," she remarked, as both girls prepared to leave the porch, "I have some little things to talk over before tea." "Only to the turn," replied Dorothy, with her arm wound lovingly around Tavia, "I just want to finish about something very important." "She must go with Dorothy," said Mrs. White to herself, watching the two girls make their way through the soft autumn twilight. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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