Back Aa

Dorothy Dale At Glenwood School

<h3> CHAPTER X </h3> <h4> A LAWN PARTY "WITH BOYS!" </h4> The day was perfect—an item of much importance where lawn parties are concerned. Dorothy and Tavia were kept in ignorance of the testimonial that had been arranged in their honor, and were now, at one hour before the appointed time, dressing for an afternoon with Alice. Ned and Nat were to go with them and then— "I am going to dress in my brand new challie," Tavia announced to Dorothy, as she left for that operation. "I'll show Miss Cucumber what I can look like when I do dress up." "I'll wear my cadet blue linen," said Dorothy, "I think that such a pretty dress." "Splendiferous!" agreed Tavia, "and so immensely becoming. Well, let us get there on time. I am just dying to say things at, not to, Miss Cuke." "Tavia!" but that young lady was out of reach of the admonition Dorothy was wont to administer. The Green Violet, the Green Vegetable and all the other Greens seemed sufficiently abusive to Dorothy, but she was determined not to tolerate the latest epithet Tavia had coined to take the place of that name—Viola Green. "Of course," admitted Dorothy, reflecting upon Tavia's new word, "Viola does seem sour, and her name is Green, but that is no reason why we should make an enemy of her. She might make it very unpleasant at Glenwood School." Ned and Nat arrived just as Dorothy finished dressing. They had been invited over the telephone by Alice, who, in taking them into the lawn party plot, had arranged that they bring Dorothy and Tavia ostensibly to spend the afternoon with her. Scarcely had the cousins' greeting been exchanged when Tavia made her appearance. She did look well in the new challie—one of the school dresses so lately acquired through Mrs. White's good management. "We had better go at once," said Ned, after speaking a word to Tavia. "I am really anxious to become better acquainted with Miss Alice. She seems such a jolly girl." "And as good as gold!" declared Dorothy warmly. "We all just love Alice!" "I am sure you do. I would to—if I had a chance," joked Ned. Along the road Tavia was with Nat as usual, trying to find some heretofore unfound item of interest in reviewing the ride in the police wagon. But concerning the interference of the stranger, Viola Green, Tavia was silent. Nat might say something that would spoil Tavia's idea of the joke on Viola. Reaching the MacAllister gate both boys wondered that no sign of the festivities were apparent. Even upon the very threshold of the stately old mansion not a sound betrayed the expected lawn party. Alice answered the ring and, with a pleasant greeting, showed the company into the reception room, then, as she drew back the portiers opening up the long parlor there was a wild shout: "Surprise! Surprise on Dorothy! Surprise on Tavia!" And the next moment there was such an "outpouring," as Tavia termed the hilarity, that neither Dorothy nor Tavia could find herself, so tangled had each one become with all the others in their joyous enthusiasm. It was a complete surprise. This fact made the affair especially enjoyable—girls do love to keep secrets in spite of all proverbial statements to the contrary. "Didn't you even guess?" quizzed May Egner, addressing Dorothy. "Never suspected a thing," declared Dorothy, as she finally managed to make her way to a cozy little seat in the arch, and there ensconced, began a pleasant chat with May Egner. "Nettie is responsible for the boys," May began. "She was a committee of one on them. But she declares she never invited that Tom Burbank, see him over there with Viola? And Alice is a little put out about it. He is a stranger, you know, and none of the boys seem to take him up." "I am glad there are boys here," remarked Dorothy, looking pleasantly about the room and noting how well the Dalton boys had turned out, and what a really good-looking set they were. "But surely someone must have invited Tom Burbank." "I suspect Viola," whispered May. "She seems to have something private to say to him and insists no one else shall hear it. Just see where they are." In a most secluded nook indeed, a very small cozy corner under the stairway, could be seen the pair in question. Viola looked particularly pretty in a light green muslin that brought out to perfection the delicate tints of her rather pale face. Her dark hair was turned up in a "bun," and it might be said, in passing, that no other girl in the room had assumed such a young lady-like effect. This, with her society manners, and Tom at her elbow, easily gave Viola a star position at the lawn party. Tavia was still gasping over her "surprise." The boys found it a matter of ease to become at once a part of the party where Tavia was concerned. They might have felt a trifle awkward before she came, this being the social debut of most of them, but when Tavia, "got going," as they expressed it, there was an end to all embarrassment. Like a queen she sat on the low couch, her head thrown back in mock scorn, while not less than a half dozen boys wielded palm leaf fans about her, in true oriental fashion. Someone brought a hassock for her feet, then another ran to the porch and promptly returned with a long spray of honeysuckle that was pressed into a crown for her head; Alice confiscated a Japanese parasol from the side wall for her "slave" to shade her with and then— The couch was the kind without a back support, cartridge cushions under the rolled ends finishing the antique design. Against one of these Tavia was resting, but no sooner had all her accessories been completed than her suite fell into line, four "slaves" making hold of the couch, lifting it majestically from its place, and with the air of Roman history, "gents" solemnly marching off with the queen and her retinue in full swing. George Mason was chief waver—that is, he had the post of honor, next the "chariot" with his fan. "Ki-ah!" he called, "Tavy-wavy-Ki-yah!" This was the signal for a solemn chant in which all of the twenty boys present, including Ned and Nat, but not Tom Burbank, participated. "Ki-ah!" called the leader. "Ki-ah!" answered the retinue. "Loddy-Shoddy, Wack-fi-Oddy Ki-ah!" sang out the head "Yamma," while Queen Octavia smiled majestically at her subjects, and bore the honor thrust upon her as gracefully as if born heir to an Indian throne. The girls were bending and fanning and bowing, some even endeavoring to kiss the queen's hand as she passed. "It takes boys to find fun," remarked Alice, "But see here, Yum-kim, or Loddy-Shoddy, whoever may be in authority," called Alice, "please bring back that couch, very carefully now, when you have dumped the queen on the lawn." At this the slaves stopped, but did not dump their queen. Instead, they slowly lowered the chariot, and even assisted her to alight. "Thanks, awfully," said Tavia, in common English, "I suppose that honor is saved for most persons' funerals. It's something to have tried it—I think Indian funeral marches perfectly lovely. I must die in India." "Funeral march! Well, I like that!" groaned George Mason. "Of all the frosts—" "That, my dear queen," declared Ralph Wilson, "was your triumphant procession-all! Did you notice the procesh? Funeral indeed! You would never get off that easy with a funeral in India." Viola was standing on the porch smiling pleasantly. Somehow she seemed very agreeable to-day. Dorothy noticed how cordially she had greeted her, and even Tavia felt she should certainly have to be civil to the "Green Violet" if the latter kept her "manners going." "Introduce me to your cousins," said Viola affably, coming up to where Dorothy stood. "Certainly," answered Dorothy. "I was waiting for an opportunity. The queen-show took all our attention." "Wasn't it splendid," and Viola seemed to have enjoyed the fun. "I do think boys do the funniest things." "Yes, they certainly are original. I have two small brothers and they keep me going." "How lovely to have brothers!" remarked Viola. "I am all alone at home." "It must be lonely," sympathized Dorothy, "but then, you can have everything your own way." "Just like lying abed on a holiday," said Viola, "one never enjoys it. I believe we always want what we cannot get, and scarcely ever appreciate what we have." "I find it that way sometimes," admitted Dorothy, "but to make sure I am not mistaken I often suppose myself without that which I fail to appreciate. It is a good test of one's real self, you know." "But a lot of trouble," sighed Viola. "I take things as they come—and always want more, or to be rid of some. But I have one real love, and that's music. I was called Viola because my dear grandfather was a celebrated violinist, and perhaps that is why I have such a passion for music." "Do you play?" asked Dorothy, interested. "Yes, I study the piano and violin, but of course I like the violin best. There is one of your cousins—" "Nat!" called Dorothy, as that boy ran across the lawn. "Come over here a minute, if you can spare time from that un-understandable game." "Don't you know that game?" asked Nat, coming up to the rustic bench upon which the two girls were seated. "Why, I'm surprised. That is a genuine American game 'Follow the Leader.'" "Let me introduce you to a friend," began Dorothy, indicating Viola. "This is Miss Green—Mr. Nat White." Nat bowed and spoke pleasantly—he was no country boy. Viola had noticed that long ago. "Viola has just been telling me her one hobby is music," said Dorothy, to start the small talk, "and she studies the violin. I think it so much more interesting than the piano," she commented. "Oh, I've tried it," admitted Nat. "It is more interesting for others, but when it comes home to a fellow it is awfully scratchy and monotonous. But I suppose Miss Viola has gone past that period. I stuck there." "That is because you did not start early enough," said Viola. "To do anything with the violin one ought to start before the squeaks and scratches can be realized." "Good idea," agreed Nat. "That work should certainly be done in the—sub—conscious state." "I'll leave you to settle the violin," said Dorothy, "while I pay my respects to Mrs. MacAllister. She has just come out, and wasn't it splendid of her to let us all come here?" Dorothy made her way across the lawn to the knot of girls where Mrs. MacAllister was gracefully presiding. But instantly Tavia saw that Nat was alone with Viola—the very thing she wanted to avoid. Nat might tell her the truth about the "chariot race," as the police patrol ride had become known. Besides, Viola could find out so many things from an unsuspecting boy. "Come with me," said Tavia to Nettie, dragging the innocent girl along. "I want to present you to a friend of mine. Do you see that boy over there? The best looking fellow here? Well, he's a friend of mine." "Delighted—I'm sure," agreed Nettie. "But what about the other girl? Miss Nile Green?" "Cut her out," said Tavia, in her most business-like way, using the slang with the old as well as the newer significance. "Certainly," responded Nettie, with a coquettish toss of her head. "I'm on the boys committee—as a matter of fact they are all here in my care," and straightforth the pair made for Viola's bench. "Wasn't it too funny!" Viola was exclaiming as Tavia came up. "I should think so," they heard Nat answer, "But Dorothy was ready to—" "Hush!" whispered Viola, but the warning was just a moment too late, for Tavia heard it. Then Viola said something that Tavia did not hear. Nat was very pleasant to Nettie. It was evident the introduction had broken in on something interesting to Viola, if not to Nat, but he gave no sign of the interference being annoying, although the girl was not so tactful. "Nettie is the committee on boys," declared Tavia, "so I thought it high time she had a chance to censure you—I mean to look over your credentials." "Well, if you and the others would join me in a swallow of that lemonade I see under yonder tree, Miss Nettie,—No, not you Tavia, nor Miss Green? Then we will have to drink alone, for I am deadly thirsty," and at this he walked away with Nettie, leaving Viola on the bench with Tavia. "Oh, there's Tom looking for me," exclaimed Viola, jumping up instantly, "won't you let me introduce you, Tavia?" (she actually said Tavia!) "He's a stranger and some out of place." "Yes," said Tavia vaguely, probably referring to the "out of place" clause, and not exactly giving assent to the introduction. Then came Viola's turn—she left Tavia with Tom and as promptly made her own escape! "Of all the—clams," Tavia was saying to herself, rather rudely, it must be confessed. But Tom evidently liked Tavia, at any rate he talked to her and showed a remarkable aptness in keeping up the tete-a-tete, "against all comers," said Nat to himself, noticing the monopoly. "That's the time Miss Tavia was beaten at her own game," was Viola's secret comment. "How glad I am to get rid of that bore. I heartily wish I—that he had not been asked." "What do you think of that?" inquired Alice of Dorothy, observing the girl's change of partners. "Look at Nat with Viola and Tavia with Tom!" "I would like to hear what Tavia has to say," and Dorothy smiled at the idea of Tavia's possible conversation. "I'm just dying to tell her that Viola's name did not come from the vegetable kingdom." "We had really better break up these little confabs," said Alice, feeling her responsibility as hostess, "or we may have reason to doubt the advisability of giving a lawn party with boys." "The simplest games will be the most enjoyable, I think," suggested Dorothy. "I would begin with 'drop the handkerchief.'" "Fine idea," replied Alice. "But notice how many times Tom gets a 'drop.' I'll bet the girls will be afraid he would keep the handkerchief. He looks girlie enough to fancy one with lace on," and at this Alice went forth to inaugurate the old-time game. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2

Update Required To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.