“All right,” Dolly blazed back, “if she doesn’t go, I don’t!” (Page 111)
TWO LITTLE WOMEN AND TREASURE HOUSE
BY CAROLYN WELLS Author of The Patty Books, The Marjorie Books, Two Little Women Series, etc.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY E. C. CASWELL
NEW YORK DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 1916
Copyright, 1916 By DODD MEAD AND COMPANY, INC.
CONTENTS
ILLUSTRATIONS
TWO LITTLE WOMEN AND TREASURE HOUSE “Oh, two rooms!” “Oh, a fireplace!” “Oh, a window-seat!” “Two window-seats!” These exclamations fell swiftly and explosively from the lips of Dotty Rose and Dolly Fayre, as they leaned over the table at which Mr. Rose was drawing plans. And such plans! And for such a purpose! Why, the whole project was nothing more nor less than a house, a real little house for those two fortunate girls! All their own, with fireplaces and window-seats and goodness knows what all delightful contrivances. It had come about because of the fact that the girls had to study pretty hard, now that they were in High School, and both found difficulty in finding just the right place to study. Dolly declared that Trudy was always having company, and the laughter and chatter was so permeating, she couldn’t find a place in the house to get out of hearing the noise. While Dotty said little Genie was always carrying on with her young playmates, or else Mother and Aunt Clara were having Sewing Society or something, and she never could be quiet in the library. The girls, of course, had their own bedrooms, but both mothers objected, on hygienic grounds, to using those for sitting-rooms. So Mr. Rose had cooked up a most fascinating scheme, and after a discussion with Mr. Fayre, he elucidated it to the girls. It seemed Mr. Fayre fully approved of it, and was quite willing to pay his share of the expense, but he was too busy to look after the details of building, and begged Mr. Rose to attend to all that. Mr. Rose, who was cashier of the Berwick Bank, had plenty of leisure time, and, moreover, had a taste for architecture, so the plans were in process of drafting. As the house was to be exceedingly simple, he felt he could plan it all himself, and thus save the expense of an architect. “You see,” he said to his interested audience, “it is really nothing but a summer house, only it is enclosed, so as to be—” “A winter-house!” interrupted Dotty. “Oh, Daddy, it is too perfectly scrumptiousiferous! I don’t see how I can live through such joy!” Dolly’s blue eyes sparkled, but her pleasure was too deep for words, and she expressed it in long drawn sighs, and occasional Oh’s! “Say twenty feet by fifteen for the whole house,” Mr. Rose said, musingly. “Then divide that in halves. Thus we have a front room, a sort of living room, ten by fifteen. Quite big enough, for in addition we can have a deep window-seat at each end.” “Where we can curl up in to study!” cried Dotty. “Oh, Dollyrinda, did you ever dream anything so perfect?” “I never did! And what is in the other room, Mr. Rose?” “Well, a sort of dining-room, say ten by ten of it, and that will leave a neat little five by ten for a bit of a kitchenette.” “Ooh—eeh—I can’t take it all in! A kitchenette! Where we can make fudge and cook messes—oh, Dad-dy!” Dotty threw her arms around her father’s neck, and in her great gratitude, Dolly did too. “Well, of course, the dining-room isn’t exactly for an eating room exclusively, but I know you will enjoy having little teas there with your friends, or taffy pulls or whatever the fad is nowadays.” “Oh, indeed we can,” said Dolly; “we can all go there after skating and have hot chocolate and sandwiches! Maybe it won’t be fun!” “But it is primarily for study,” warned Mr. Rose. “I don’t think though, you two bookworms will neglect your lessons.” He was right, for both Dolly and Dotty were studious, and now, being in the High School, they were most anxious to make good records. They studied diligently every evening, and though Dotty learned her lessons more quickly, Dolly remembered hers better. But both were fond of fun and frolic, and they foresaw wonderful opportunities in the new house. “Oh, a piazza!” squealed Dotty, as under her father’s clever fingers a wide piazza showed on the paper. “Yes, of course; this will be a summer house also, you know, and a piazza is a necessity. Perhaps in the winter it can be enclosed with glass. All such details must come later. First we must get the proportions and the main plan. And here it is, in a nutshell. Or, rather, in a rectangle. Just half is the living-room, and the other half is two-thirds dining-room and one-third kitchen. The kitchen includes kitchenette and pantry.” “What is a kitchenette, exactly?” asked Dolly. “Only what its name implies,” returned Mr. Rose, smiling. “Just a little kitchen. There will be a gas stove,—no, I think it would be better for you to have it all electric. Then you can have an electric oven and toaster and chafing-dish, and any such contraptions you want. How’s that?” “Too good to be true!” and Dolly sighed in deep contentment. “How long will it take to build it?” “Not long, if I can get the workmen to go right at it, and I hope I can. Now, suppose we plan the living-room, which is, of course, the study.” “Let’s call it the Study,” said Dolly. “Sounds sort of wise and grown-up.” “Very well. Here then, in the Study, suppose we have the door right in the middle of the front wall, and opening on the front veranda. Then a small window each side of the door, and a big square bay, with cushioned seat, at each end of the room.” “Glorious!” and Dolly danced about on one foot. “Then we can each have one of them to study in, every afternoon after school.” “With a blazing wood fire—where’s the fireplace, Daddy?” “Here, opposite the entrance door. Then you see, one chimney in the middle of the house, will provide for a fireplace in each room. I’m not sure this will give you heat enough. If not, you must depend on gas logs. We can’t be bothered with a furnace of any sort. Perhaps in the very coldest weather you can’t inhabit your castle.” “Oh, that won’t matter,” and Dolly’s good-natured face smiled brightly; “if we have it most of the time, we’ll willingly study somewhere else on extra cold days. And at one side of the fireplace, the door through to the dining-room—oh, yes, I see.” “Right, my child. And on the other side of the fireplace, in the Study, a set of built-in bookshelves, and in the dining-room, a built-in glass closet.” “But we haven’t any glass!” and Dotty looked amazed at the idea. “Well, I dare say the mothers of you will scout around and give you some old junk from the attics. I know of a gorgeous dish you can have.” Mr. Rose’s eyes twinkled, and Dotty broke into laughter: “I know! you mean ‘The Eyesore’!” This was a hideous affair that some one had sent Mrs. Rose as a Christmas Gift, and the family had long since relegated it to the oblivion of a dark cupboard. “No, thank you!” Dot went on, “I’d rather have things from the ten-cent store.” “They have some awfully nice things there,” suggested Dolly, “and I know Mother has a lot of odds and ends we can have. Oh, when the house is built, it will be lots of fun to furnish it. Trudy will make us lovely table-covers and things like that. And we can have paper napkins for our spreads.” “And Aunt Clara says she will make all the curtains,—whatever sort we want.” “That’s lovely of her! I know we’ll have lots of things given to us, and we’ll find lots of things around our homes—and the rest we’ll do ourselves.” “Yes, and Thomas will bring wood for us, and take away the ashes. We must have enormous wood-baskets or wood-boxes. Oh, it’s just like furnishing a real house! What loads of fun we’ll have!” “Then, in the kitchen,” Mr. Rose went on, drawing as he spoke, “we’ll have a tiny sink, all nice white enamel, and a wall-cupboard for your dish-towels and soap and such things. Also a sort of a small—a very small—kitchen cabinet for your pepper and salt, with a place underneath for pans and kettles.” “You think a lot about the kitchen, Daddy. I believe you expect to come there sometimes to join our feasts.” “I certainly shall, if I’m invited. Then, you see, the dining-room can have a deep window, and if you don’t care for a window-seat there, how about a window-box of bright flowers?” “I don’t know about that, Mr. Rose,” demurred Dolly. “If the house isn’t always warm, the poor posies would freeze, wouldn’t they?” “Right you are, Dollykins. Cut out the growing plants, then, and have now and then a vase or bowl of flowers on the table. Now, let me see. An electric light over the table in the dining-room, and perhaps a side light or two. Then in the Study, a reading light for each, and one or two pretty fixtures beside.” “Why, will we use it so much at night, Mr. Rose?” “If you choose to. And anyway, in the winter time, you’ll need lights by five o’clock, or on dark days, even earlier.” “That’s so; how thoughtful you are. I s’pose some days we won’t go in the house at all, and others we’ll be there all the afternoon and all the evening.” “And all Saturdays,” said Dotty; “we’ll always spend Saturdays there, and we can make things for the house or make our Christmas presents, or make fudge and have the girls and boys come over—” “Or just sit by the fire and read,” interrupted Dolly. “Oh, you old kitten! You’d rather lie by the fire and purr than do anything at all!” “Well, then I’ll do that. We’re to do whatever we please in our own house, aren’t we, Mr. Rose?” “Yes, indeed, Dolly. But amicable always. No, I don’t think you two are inclined to quarrel, but you do have little differences now and then, and I’d hate to have the charm of this little nest disturbed by foolish squabbles.” “I’ll promise, for one, never to scrap,” said Dolly, eagerly, and Dotty said with equal fervour, “Me, too!” “We’ll have nice, plain, hard floors,” continued Mr. Rose, “and I’m sure your mothers can find some discarded rugs.” “Oh, we can make those,” exclaimed Dolly. “Don’t you know, Dot, that new way your Aunt Clara told us about? You take rags, you know, and sew them in pipings, and then crochet them,—oh, it’s just lovely!” “Yes, I know. We’ll each make one of those, it’ll be fine!” “And we’ll put them in the Study, one on each side of the room. Yours on my side, mine on yours.” “All right. Which side do you want?” “I’ll take the side next my house and you the side next yours. Then if our mothers call us, we can hear them.” “Good idea,” said Mr. Rose. “I think we’ll put the house just on the dividing line between your father’s ground and mine.” “And Mother can hang a red flag out the window if she wants me in a hurry. Or if dinner is ready.” “We might have a telephone,” suggested Dotty. “We’ll see about that later,” said Mr. Rose. “You must remember that the expenses are counting up, and Mr. Fayre and I are not millionaires. But we want you to have a good substantial little nook for yourselves. Then, later, if we see fit to add a telephone or a wireless apparatus or an airship garage, we can do so.” “All right,” returned Dotty with a satisfied grin. “Say, Doll, shall we bring our desks from our bedrooms?” “No,” Mr. Rose answered for her. “Those are too flimsy and dainty; and besides, you’ll need them where they are. I shall ask the privilege of contributing two solid, sensible Mission desks of greenish tinge, with chairs to match. Then if you want to curl up on your window cushions to study you may, but there will be a place to write your compositions.” “Lovely, Father! How good you are!” and Dotty fell on his neck, while Dolly possessed herself of his hand and patted it. The two girls were equally fond of their fathers, but Mr. Rose was more chummy in manner than Mr. Fayre. The latter was devoted to his children, but was less demonstrative of his affection. But Dolly well knew that her father would not be outdone in kindness or generosity and that he would give an equally welcome gift, as well as pay his share of the building expenses. “All right, Mr. Rose,” she said, “if you do that, I’m sure father will furnish the dining-room with whatever we want.” “There won’t be much needed for that, just a table and chairs, which can doubtless be snared in our attics. But your father, Dotty, offered the whole kitchenette outfit, which, I can tell you, is a noble gift.” “Indeed it is!” cried Dotty. “I’m crazy to get at that electricky-cooky business!” “So’m I,” declared Dolly. “When will it be all done, Mr. Rose?” “Can’t say exactly. If all goes well you ought to get in by the last of October.” “About Hallowe’en, then,” said Dolly. “We might have a kind of Hallowe’en party for a house-warming.” “Gay!” cried Dotty. “We’ll get all our treasures in it by that time.” “Let’s call it our Treasure House,—how’s that for a name?” “Pretty good,” said Mr. Rose. “I’ve been wondering what to call it. Treasure House isn’t bad at all. Makes you think of Treasure Island.” “Yes, so it does,” and Dolly’s blue eyes sparkled at the name of one of her best-loved books. “Oh, won’t it be fun to arrange our bookshelves. I’m glad to move some of my books, my shelves at home are overrunning.” “Then, you see, children,” Mr. Rose was still adding to his drawings, “in the summer, you can have hammocks on the veranda, and piazza-boxes with flowers—” “Yes, Daddy, dear, you shall get those flower-boxes set up as soon as the gentle Spring gets around.” “Well, I do love flowers,” and Mr. Rose smiled, for his family well knew his great fondness for gardening. “Now you girls won’t have any too much time to get your flummerydiddles ready. For after the house is built and papered and painted, you ought to have your furnishings all ready. And to make curtains and cushions and lace whatd’y’callums—tidies? will be a few weeks’ work,—won’t it?” “Yes, indeedy. But all our beloved lady relatives will help us and among our sisters and our mothers and our aunts, I ’spect we’ll accumulate about enough housekeeping stuff to stock a hotel.” Dotty danced around the table as she talked, and catching Dolly in her arms, the two executed a sort of triumphal hoppity-skip that expressed their joy and relieved their feelings. “And now,” sighed Dolly, suddenly looking thoughtful, “I’ve got to go right straight, smack home and do my Geometry for to-morrow.” “Oh, my goodness! me too!” exclaimed Dotty. “Dear! how I wish Treasure House was done, and I could go there to study. It’s an awful long time to wait.” “But we can make things every chance we get. Oh, Dotty, I’m going to make a birch-bark scrapbasket. I’ve got a lot of that bark left that I brought down from Crosstrees. Won’t it be fine?” “Great! Shall we have two?” “No, only one scrapbasket and such things. It’s more cosy. But two of everything that we use separately. Like two desks, you know.” “Only one set of bookshelves.” “Well, there’ll be nooks for books, beside the fireplace, and beside the window casings,” said Mr. Rose, “in addition to the regular shelves. I haven’t half fixed those things up yet.” “Oh, it will be just heavenly!” sighed Dolly. “But I must scoot to my Geometry now. See you to-morrow, Dot. Good-bye.” “All right. Good-bye.” When the two D’s reached school next morning, they found a group of their friends giggling and whispering in a corner of the Recreation Room. “What’s the joke?” asked Dotty as they drew near. “Hello, Two D’s,” cried Tod Brown. “How are you, Toodies? Just wait till you hear what’s up! The greatest sell ever! The biggest joke of the season. Oh, me, oh, my!” “Tell us,” begged Dolly. “Tell us, Tod, what is it?” She was taking off her hat and coat as she talked, and as she stepped into the coatroom to hang them up, Celia Ferris slipped in and whispered to her. “Now don’t jump on the scheme, Dolly Fayre. You’re such a goody-goody, I’m half afraid to let you in on it.” “Why, is it mean?” and Dolly’s blue eyes flashed, for she hated a mean joke. “No, it isn’t mean, at least no meaner than she deserves. But I wish they wouldn’t tell you; you’re an old spoilsport, and I know you’ll say you won’t join in.” “Join in what? Do tell me, or I can’t say what I’ll do.” “Come on out. Tod will tell you,” and the two girls joined the others. “What is it, Tod?” asked Dolly, as she came up to the laughing boy. “Now, Dollykin, do be real nice and don’t be a horrid old Miss Prim! You see, Miss Partland, the Geometry teacher, is so cross and horrid and unjust to us, we’re going to pay her out. And we’ve thought up the greatest scheme! Just listen!” “No, let me tell her,” said Joe Collins; “you’ll make it seem worse’n it is. Why, Doll, it’s only this. You see, Miss Partland isn’t looking very well, and we are all going to tell her so. She ought to know the truth. And she keeps a lot of us in every afternoon, and we don’t want her to. So we’re each going to tell her, as we get the chance, that she looks sort of ill, and then, we think she’ll want to go home early, herself, and she won’t stay to keep us in. Isn’t that all right?” “Why, that doesn’t seem very bad,” said Dolly, dimpling as she smiled. “How are you going to bring it in?” “Oh, just casually, you know. If you have a chance, you just say, ‘Aren’t you feeling well, Miss Partland?’ or something like that.” “I’d just as lieve say that, if she looks ill; but I won’t if she doesn’t,” returned Holly, very decidedly. “All right; you’ll find she looks ill. Why, the poor lady is on the verge of nervous prostration, and so will we all be, if she is so hard on us.” “Did she keep you in, yesterday?” “Yep; just ’cause I had a little mite of a mistake in one example! Oh, she’s the limit, she is!” “And do you think she’ll be any sweeter-natured if we sympathise with her for feeling bad?” “Well, maybe; you never can tell.” “I think it’s a grand scheme!” declared Dotty. “She’s an old fuss anyway. She found fault with my examples because I didn’t take a separate sheet of paper for each one. I’d just as lieve, only I didn’t know she wanted me to.” “How’s your house comin’ on, Dot?” sang out Lollie Henry. “Perfectly great! It’ll be done by Hallowe’en, and maybe we won’t have one rollicking good time!” “Won’t we just! You want to look out, you know Hallowe’en is the time for tricks, and I dunno what the boys will get off.” “Not in our new house! If anybody takes our doors off of their hinges or does anything mean, I won’t stand it, that’s all!” and Dotty shook her curly black head and her dark eyes sparkled with anger at the thought of such desecration. “Well, look out, that’s all,” said Lollie, teasingly, and then the bell called them to the schoolroom. Soon after they all trooped to a classroom for the Geometry lesson. As he passed the teacher’s desk, Tod Brown tripped against her platform, and nearly fell over on it. “What a clumsy boy!” exclaimed Miss Partland, frowning, and indeed the stumble was an awkward one. Small wonder, as it was done entirely on purpose! Tod straightened himself up, made a nice, boyish bow, and said, “Please excuse me, Miss Partland. Oh, don’t feel alarmed, I’m not hurt.” “And I’m not alarmed, you silly boy! I am annoyed at you, not sorry for you.” “Yes’m. But, Miss Partland, you’re so white. Why, you look quite ill! Mayn’t I get you a glass of water?” “Go to your seat!” Miss Partland turned scarlet, both from irritation at Tod’s speech, and a sudden nervous fear for herself. Tod went to his place, and when it was Tad’s turn to go to the blackboard, he paused a moment, and looked straight into the teacher’s face. “Why, Miss Partland,” he whispered to her, “don’t you feel well? You look awful queer!” “Go to the board,” she said, but she was evidently disturbed at his remark. Tad went obediently, and did his work well, then, as he returned to his seat, he gave Miss Partland a long, searching look, and gravely shook his head. The other pupils saw him, and saw, too, that the teacher looked worried. The joke was working. Surely, she would not stay to-night to keep anybody in. Next was Dotty’s turn. She went toward the blackboard, but on the way, she stopped in front of Miss Partland, and looked at her. Then, with an anxious look on her face, she stepped up on the platform, and whispering in the teacher’s ear, said: “If you’re not feeling well, Miss Partland, why don’t you go to the rest room for a while?” “I’m perfectly well, child, what’s the matter with you?” “You don’t look so,” said Dotty, shaking her head, and looking back at her victim, as she moved slowly to the board. Several others did similarly; some not commenting on the teacher’s looks, but merely staring at her, and then looking away quickly. Dolly Fayre had not noticed much of the whole performance, for she was behind with her lesson, and was struggling with a refractory problem, hoping to get it done before she had to go to the blackboard to demonstrate it. And so, when she rose from her seat, she was surprised and shocked to see how alarmed Miss Partland looked. Indeed the poor lady was all upset with bewilderment at the observations made by her pupils. She had begun to think there must be something serious and noticeable the matter with her. She was trembling with nervous apprehension, and was on the verge of tears. And so, Dolly, who had forgotten Tod’s joke, said, most honestly, “Why, what is the matter, Miss Partland? You look awfully ill!” The other pupils, hearing this, chuckled silently, thinking what a good little actress Dolly was. But to Miss Partland it was the last straw. “I am ill,” she cried out; “very ill. Help me, Dolly, to the rest room.” Leaning on the shoulder of Dolly, who was pretty well frightened, Miss Partland stumbled along to the rest room,—a place provided for any one suddenly indisposed. Dolly assisted her teacher to lie down on a couch, and dipping her handkerchief in cold water, held it to her forehead. “Let me call somebody,” said Dolly. “I don’t know what I ought to do.” “No, I feel better now,” said Miss Partland. “But I can’t go back to the classroom. I think I must go home. You may go to Mr. Macintosh, Dolly, and tell him I went home, ill.” “Yes, Miss Partland,” replied Dolly, and then it suddenly came to her, that this was the result of Tod’s joke! “Were you ill this morning?” she asked. “No, not in the slightest. It is a sudden attack of some sort. Perhaps I shall die!” “Oh, no. You’ll be all right in an hour or so. What sort of pain do you feel, Miss Partland?” “Not any definite pain. But queer all over, as if some illness were impending.” I do believe, thought Dolly to herself, that it’s all the fault of those horrid boys, telling her she looked ill! And then she suddenly remembered that she herself had told Miss Partland so, too, and very emphatically. But she had told her in earnest, while the others had been carrying out their jest. However, her comment was just the same as theirs, and doubtless helped to produce this effect. She wondered what to do. At first, she thought she would tell the whole story, and let the boys and girls take the consequences of their ill-timed joke. Then, she feared it might so enrage Miss Partland to know of it, that it would make her worse. She decided not to tell at present, anyway, and she helped the teacher on with her hat and coat, and went with her to the door. “Tell Mr. Macintosh I am quite ill,” she said as she went away. And Dolly went to the Principal’s room to do her bidding. “Did Miss Partland say what the trouble was?” asked the surprised man. “Is she subject to these attacks?” “She didn’t say, Mr. Macintosh, and I have never known her to be ill before. I think she will be all right, to-morrow.” “You seem to know a great deal for a miss of your age! Have you had much experience with heart attacks?” “I didn’t say it was a heart attack,” said poor Dolly, torn by her knowledge of what had really caused the trouble. “It must have been, from what you say. That’s what I mean, you are too young and inexperienced to attend alone on a suffering victim of heart disease. Why didn’t you call some help?” “I did want to, sir, but Miss Partland wouldn’t let me.” “You may go. Return to the class and tell them they are dismissed. Let them all go to their next recitation at the proper time.” “Yes, Mr. Macintosh.” “Stop a minute.” Dolly turned. “Do you know anything more about this affair than you have told me?” Dolly hesitated. What should she do? She did know more about it; she knew of the joke the boys had made up, and she felt almost sure that it was owing to this foolish jest that Miss Partland had imagined she felt ill so vividly, that at last she really did feel so. And yet, if Dolly “peached” on the boys, she well knew what they would think of her! It was a hard position. But, she thought quickly, it couldn’t help Miss Partland to tell of the joke now, and then again the illness might not have been caused by the joke after all, Dolly had been so engrossed with her difficult problem that she had not seen the successive boys and girls look at Miss Partland with such evident sympathy, anxiety and even consternation. Her hesitation naturally made the Principal think she was withholding some information of importance, and he said so. “No, Mr. Macintosh,” said Dolly, firmly; “I do not feel sure that I am. The only thing I know, is not positively connected with Miss Partland’s illness, although it may be. But as I am not sure, I am not justified in even speaking of it to you.” The Principal looked at her attentively. “You’re a queer child,” he said. “Yes, I am,” replied Dolly, thoughtfully. “But I’m trying to see what is my duty, and I can’t say anything till I find out.” “At any rate, you’re an honest little girl, and I don’t believe you know anything that you really ought to tell, or you’d tell it.” “Oh, thank you, sir. That’s just it. I don’t think I ought to, or I would.” Dismissed from the room, Dolly returned to the class and told them the lesson would not be resumed that day, as Miss Partland had gone home ill. She looked reproachfully at the boys who had been ring-leaders in the “joke” and at Celia Ferris, too, who had also been a party to it. But as there were many in the class who knew nothing about it, no word was said then and there, nor could there be until after school. Then Dolly told what had happened. “And to think,” she concluded, “that Miss Partland was not ill at all, but so many remarks on her looking poorly, made her think she was,—and then—she was!” “Pooh, nonsense!” said Lollie Henry; “you can’t make a lady ill by telling her she doesn’t look quite up to the mark.” “Yes, you can,” declared Dolly. “It’s what they call auto-suggestion, or something. Just the same way, if you tell anybody they look well, why, then they get well. I’ve heard Mother talk about it.” “Well, then,” said Tod Brown, “all we’ve got to do, is to go around to Miss Partland’s house and tell her she’s looking as blooming as a peach!” “Sure!” said Tad. “That’s dead easy. Come on.” “No,” said Dolly, “you can’t rush off like that! You’d probably make her worse.” “Well, what does she want, then?” “Oh, Tad, you’re so silly!” and Dolly couldn’t help laughing at him. “I think you’re silly, Dolly,” said Celia. “I don’t believe it was our joke that upset her, at all. I believe she’d been sick anyway.” “No, she wouldn’t. She said she was perfectly well this morning. You know, Celia, that it was your speeches, one after another, that scared her into thinking she was ill. And it was enough to, too! Why, I wasn’t noticing at the time, I was studying, but Dot told me afterward, how you all told her she looked so terrible, and you pretended to be scared to death!” “Well, you said the same thing to her!” “Yes, but I meant it! By the time I went up to the board, you had all frightened her so, she was white and shaky-looking. I was sure she was going to faint.” “Yes, Dolly was in earnest,” said Dotty. “If we did any harm, Doll can’t be included. When she said that to Miss Partland, it was true. When we said it, it wasn’t.” “Oh, I’m not sticking myself up,” began Dolly. “And I’m not blaming the rest of you. I think it was a mean joke, but never mind that now. What I’m thinking of is what we ought to do. Seems if we ought to set matters right somehow.” “I don’t think so,” said Celia. “It’s always better to let well enough alone, my mother says. I bet that by to-morrow morning, Miss Partland will be all right and will have forgotten all about this foolishness.” “I bet she will too,” said Lollie. “Say, Dolly, don’t worry over it. It wasn’t your fault anyway. And I don’t believe it will make old Party really ill. It couldn’t. And it may make her more sweet-tempered if she thinks she’s subject to—what d’y’ call em?—heart attacks.” “How do you know it was a heart attack?” demanded Dolly. “I heard Mr. Macintosh tell another teacher that Miss Party had gone home because she had a heart attack in the classroom.” “I don’t believe it was her heart at all,” said Dolly slowly. “Why should any one think so? It was only nervousness, caused by your foolish trick. I’m sorry for Miss Partland. If she isn’t all right to-morrow, I’m going to tell her the whole story.” “Meany!” cried Celia; “it’s awful mean to tell tales.” “Not so mean as to play tricks!” retorted Dolly, and then she and Dotty had reached their homes, and went in, while the others went on their way. |
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