Chapter 4 ToC No.4

DORA.

One afternoon, when the interest in the Brown house was still at its height, and before the children had made the acquaintance of their new neighbor, a little girl came slowly up the street carrying a sun-umbrella.

A hush had fallen upon the neighborhood; nobody was to be seen, and the only sound not made by the birds and insects was the far-away click and whirr of a lawn-mower.

She had had a long walk and was tired; a carriage-block under the maple trees offered a pleasant resting place, so, closing her umbrella, she sat down. She had a pair of frank gray eyes and a smile that made you feel at once that she was a cheery little person, accustomed to make the best of things.

"How still it is!" she said to herself. "I wonder if some wicked fairy has put everybody to sleep? I wish I might go into their houses and break the spell. And here comes an enchanted prince," she continued, laughing at the fancy, as a large black cat came across the street in a leisurely, sleepy way.

The gray eyes seemed to inspire his confidence, for the victim of enchantment stopped to rub against her dress.

"Pretty old kitty, you are somebody's pet," she said, softly touching the glossy head.

He could have told her that some one in the neighborhood was awake. In fact, two individuals had invaded the shady spot where he was taking his nap, and persisted in tickling his ears with grass till he was obliged to leave. He did not mention this, however, only arched his back and purred a little, and then, as if he suddenly remembered important business, trotted off through the bars of the gate and up the walk leading to a large house. The observer on the carriage-block thought it the most attractive house she had ever seen. Everything about it told of pleasant times: the tennis net, the hammock under the trees, the broad piazza, and, most of all, the wide front door which seemed to invite her to come in and see what sort of people lived behind it. "I wonder who lives here. I wish I knew. I believe I'll follow the cat and find out," she thought merrily.

At this moment the door opened and two little girls appeared, all in a flutter of dainty blue ruffles. Each carried a cushion, and one had what looked like an atlas under her arm.

"Shall we sit on the porch, Bess?" asked the one with yellow hair.

"Oh, no, Louise, don't you think it will be pleasanter under the chestnut tree?" the brown-haired maiden said; and then they came across the grass and settled themselves under the horse-chestnut, the branches of which met those of the maple tree that cast its shade over the carriage-block. They were quite unconscious of the wistful eyes that watched them as they bent over the atlas, from which Louise took some large sheets of paper.

"How pretty they are! I wish I knew them," the owner of the eyes said to herself. Then, feeling rather shy in the presence of these charming little persons who might look around presently and wonder what she was doing there, she rose and took up her umbrella.

She couldn't help lingering a little, for she wanted very much to know what they were going to do. Standing where she was shielded front their view by a bush that grew in the fence corner, this is what she heard:

"We haven't played the Carletons for ever so long; do begin," urged Louise.

"I think Lucy ought to be married," said Bess; "she is eighteen, you know, and I suppose people are generally married when they are so old as that. Then a wedding will be such fun!"

"Yes, indeed, and she has been engaged to Edwin Graves a long time."

"Well, her father and mother have at last consented, though they wanted her to marry an English earl, who was madly in love with her."

"I am glad I finished the new house in time," said Louise, holding up a drawing which represented the interior of a lofty mansion. "But go on about the earl."

"She met him at the queen's palace, where all the English young ladies were in love with him, but he thought Lucy the most beautiful of all. She did not care for him, though, because she loved Edwin and had promised to marry him. Even though he hadn't so much money, she said she would rather marry a free-born American than any haughty earl."

"That is very interesting," said Louise, admiring the patriotic sentiment, "but do you suppose if she didn't marry Edwin he would die of a broken heart?"

"But she is going to marry him," said Bess, refusing to consider the question.

"And now we will skip the getting ready part and have the wedding. It is a beautiful cloudless night in June, and there are roses everywhere; the house is filled with them."

"I'll put them in while you are telling it," suggested the artist.

Bess assented to this and continued, "Lucy is dressed now, and she is the most beautiful bride anyone ever saw."

"Do you remember Aunt Zélie's wedding?" asked Louise. "Cousin Helen says she was the prettiest bride she ever saw."

"Not very well. I don't remember how she looked, but I think she is the most beautiful person in the world now."

"Oh, yes, so do I!"

The wedding then went on without interruption for a while.

"Lucy is tall and stately, her eyes are blue as the sky, and her hair is long and golden. She speaks very softly, and has the sweetest smile, and she walks like a queen. Her dress is white silk and beautiful lace, with a long, long train, and she wears diamonds and carries a bunch of roses."

"Now tell about Edwin Graves, Bess."

"Men are a great deal harder to do," said the story-teller with a sigh.

"Let me, then, for I know exactly how he looks," and, clasping her hands around her knees and gazing upwards, Louise began: "He is very tall and grand-looking, his eyes are black, and his voice is very deep."

At this interesting point Bess exclaimed, "Louise, here comes Uncle William, and I know he is going to take us driving!"

The listener, who had forgotten everything but the story, came to herself with a start. "How dreadful of me!" she said, walking away very rapidly, while the story-tellers ran out of the gate to greet a tall gentleman who had just driven up.

"I suppose they are sisters," she thought, looking back once more before she turned the corner.

"How nice it must be to live in a house like that. Bess and Louise; I wonder what their last name is."

Louise was busy with her drawing one morning, comfortably established in a shady corner of the porch, when her aunt called to her:

"I wish you would keep an eye on Carie while Joanna goes on an errand for me."

"I will, Aunt Zélie," she responded promptly.

It was not likely her charge would give her much trouble, for Carie was quite capable of entertaining herself, and was at that moment promenading back and forth with an old parasol over her head, pretending she was going to market.

"Don't go on the grass, baby; it is wet," cautioned Louise, by way of showing her authority, and then returned to the new mansion for the Carletons upon which she was working. She soon became so absorbed in this that she forget to look up now and then.

Meanwhile Carie talked busily to herself, gesticulating with one small forefinger. But after a little she grew tired of filling her basket with grass and leaves, and stood peeping out through the bars of the gate. How much more fun it would be to go to the real market where she had often been with Joanna! She knew perfectly well that she was not allowed outside by herself, but that did not make it seem any less attractive. With a cautious glance over her shoulder she softly pulled the gate open, and in a moment more was flying up the street. When she reached the corner she turned to the right and slackened her pace, feeling very important and grown up as she bobbed merrily along under her parasol.

"Where are you going, little one?" asked a man who passed her.

She gave him a roguish glance as she answered, "To martet."

At the next corner she turned again to the right, safely crossing the street, but here everything was unfamiliar and she began to feel timid. Then she suddenly saw a very large dog coming toward her. He was so large she thought he must be a bear, and, with a frightened scream, she turned to run, but tripped over her parasol, and fell, a forlorn little heap, on the sidewalk.

"What is the matter? Are you hurt? You mustn't be afraid of the dog; he is good, and doesn't bite."

These reassuring words were spoken by a girl of eleven or twelve, who helped her up and brushed off her dress.

"What a darling you are!" she added, as Carie lifted her big blue eyes, all swimming in tears, saying, "I fought it was a bear."

"No, indeed; he is only a nice old dog who lives next door to me, so I know all about him. Now tell me where you are going all alone?"

"I runned away," was the honest answer, "and I dess you better take me home," she added, looking up confidingly into the pleasant face.

"Then you must tell me what your name is and where you live."

Carie could tell her name, but to the other question could only answer, "Over there," pointing in the wrong direction with great assurance. Her companion was puzzled; she felt certain some one was alarmed at the disappearance of this dainty little midget.

"I'll ask Mrs. West if she knows anybody near here named Hazeltine," she said. "Come in and sit on the doorstep till I find out something about you."

She was back in a moment. "I think I know now, you dear little thing! It must be that lovely house I saw the other day."

For some minutes after Carie's flight Louise worked on, then remembering her charge she discovered her absence. She ran to the gate and looked up and down the street, she searched the garden and the house, and finally burst in upon Aunt Zélie crying:

"I have lost her! I have lost her!"

The news spread in a moment; nothing else could be thought of till the lost darling was found.

Carl ran in one direction, Sukey in another, and Bess flew over to ask if by any chance Miss Brown had seen the runaway. Louise stood on the porch, the picture of misery.

"A Girl of Eleven or Twelve helped her up and brushed off her Clothes."

"You will never trust me again, never" she sobbed as her aunt came out and stood beside her, looking anxiously up and down.

"I am sure you won't be so careless another time," Aunt Zélie said, pitying her distress.

At this moment who should turn the corner but the small cause of all the excitement, chatting away to her new friend, quite unconscious that she was giving anybody any trouble!

"Why, Carie Hazeltine, where have you been?" cried Louise, drying her eyes and running to meet her.

"I found her on Chestnut street-a dog had frightened her," her companion explained, reluctantly releasing the plump hand she held.

"You are a naughty girl," said her sister, taking possession of her. "You might have been run over, or something dreadful."

"I didn't det run over," Carie insisted indignantly.

"Well, say good-by, and 'thank you for taking care of me.' We are all very much obliged to you," Louise added, turning to the stranger. Carie held up her mouth for a kiss, and then allowed herself to be led away.

"At any rate I know their name is Hazeltine," said Carie's friend to herself.

The culprit was soon in a fair way to think she had done something very funny and interesting, people made such a fuss over her, so Aunt Zélie carried her off to be solemnly reproved.

"I suppose you are going to the party to-morrow, aren't you?" asked Elsie Morris, a neighbor and friend, who had been helping in the search.

"Of course," answered Bess. "I am glad you came home in time, Elsie; Aleck is going to stay in and go with us."

"There are to be fireworks and lanterns and all sorts of things," observed Aleck, who lay at his ease in the hammock.

"Yes, I know," said Elsie, "and everybody is to have a-I don't know what you call it-something to remember the party by. Annie May told me herself."

"How nice! It will be almost like Christmas," said Louise.

"Not like one of Uncle William's parties, though," put in Carl.

"School begins next week, and three months of pegging before Christmas," groaned Aleck.

"Come on, then; let's make the most of the time we have," Carl urged energetically.

It was the afternoon of the next day, and Louise stood before the mirror critically viewing her sash.

"Why, Joanna! You have made Bess's bows ever so much longer than mine."

"I can't see what difference that makes," was the rather sharp reply, for the September day was warm and the task of dressing three restless young ladies for a party was not conducive to coolness.

"It makes a great deal of difference to us, for we wish to look exactly alike," said Louise loftily. "And if you are going to do a thing at all, you ought to do it well; Father says so."

"Dear me! Here comes Ikey, and we are not ready," exclaimed Bess, who stood at the window.

"You might be if you weren't so particular. I never saw the beat of your equal," and Joanna whisked Helen's dress over her head.

"The beat of your equal," Bess repeated. "What does that mean, Jo?"

"My patience!" was the only reply to be had from this much-enduring maid.

"Joanna is cross; I'll get Aunt Zélie to tie my sash," said Louise, running off, followed by Bess.

Their aunt was in the lower hall with Ikey, who was looking dignified, if not a trifle stiff, in a new standing collar. Louise decided that he needed a rose in his buttonhole, and danced away to get one when her sash had been arranged to her satisfaction.

Though there was more than a year's difference in their ages, Bess and Louise were exactly the same height, and were sometimes taken for twins. This delighted them beyond measure, and to help the impression they wished to be dressed alike, down to the smallest detail.

Though Bess's hair curled prettily she insisted on wearing it in two braids, because that was the only comfortable fashion in which her sister's heavy locks could be arranged. Aunt Zélie laughed at them, but let them have their way.

Carl and Aleck were the last to appear, which Bess thought was very strange, considering they had no sashes to be tied, or hair to be curled or braided.

"Now trot along and have the best kind of a time," said Aunt Zélie after she had inspected them, and given some finishing touches to their cravats; "I am proud of my girls and boys."

They were a merry party as they started out, waving their good-bys, Ikey feeling particularly proud to be counted one of her boys. He only half wanted to go, for, though sociably inclined, he was bashful, but the girls had promised not to desert him.

Carl affected to hold parties in disdain. "They never do anything worth while; who cares for 'drop the handkerchief' or dancing?"

When Louise mischievously suggested that he must be going for the supper, he strolled ahead with an air of lofty scorn.

The occasion was a birthday party, an outdoor affair, and the large yard was hung with Japanese lanterns ready to light when the sun went down. As the children came flocking in with their bright faces and gay ribbons, it was a pretty scene.

There were swings and all sorts of games, and soon everybody was busy having a good time. Even Carl forgot that he did not like parties. But there was one person who seemed to be left out of the fun. Stopping to rest after some lively game, Bess noticed a girl sitting on a bench all by herself. She looked lonely, and Bess felt sorry for her.

"I think I ought to go and speak to her; won't you go with me, Elsie?" she asked.

"No; I'd rather not. I think she is funny-looking."

"But I am afraid she does not know anybody."

"Well, it is not our party; why doesn't Annie May take care of her?" And Elsie smoothed her pink ribbons complacently.

Bess was shy, and thought she could not go by herself to speak to a stranger. "I'll wait till I see Louise," she said.

"Who is that girl?" some one asked the little hostess.

"Her name is Dora Warner," was the reply. "Mamma knows her mother. They haven't lived here long. I have tried to introduce her, but nobody wants to talk to her, and she doesn't know a single game. I wish Mamma would come and take care of her."

The stranger sat alone looking on at the merry scene. She felt timid and unhappy, and had to wink very hard now and then to get rid of a troublesome mist that found its way to her eyes.

"I am silly I know; I ought not to expect to get acquainted all at once," she said to herself bravely.

If it had not been for the loneliness she might have enjoyed the fun going on around her, even though she had no part in it. Such dainty dresses, such laughing and dancing about, such airs and graces, she had never before seen! She recognized the charming little girls who had so taken her fancy a week or two before-sisters, she felt sure, of that dear little Carie.

"Oh, dear!" she said at last; "I can't help wishing I had not come!"

Not thinking what she was doing, Dora took up a croquet mallet which had been left on the bench, and began slowly to screw it into the ground. Just then a boy rushed by hotly chased by another. The one in pursuit tripped on the mallet and fell headlong on the grass.

"Are you hurt? I am so sorry; I did not mean to do it!" she exclaimed in dismay.

"No, I am not hurt," he replied, sitting up and rubbing the stains off his hands with his handkerchief. "How did you come to do it anyhow?" and he gave her a glimpse of a pair of merry brown eyes, and then went on polishing his hands.

"I don't know," she answered.

"If it had not been for you I could have caught Aleck."

"I am so sorry," Dora said again, in such a mournful tone that the boy laughed.

"You needn't think I care! Aleck knows I can catch him. Do you like to run?"

"I haven't tried it very often lately. I think you could catch me," she answered.

"I probably could; as a general thing girls aren't much on running, but you should see Louise!"

"Who is she?" asked Dora.

"She is my sister; I thought everybody knew Louise."

"I don't know any one," was the reply in a mournful tone.

"Don't you really?" Carl asked, sitting up very straight; "and is that the reason you are over here by yourself?"

"I know Annie a little, but you see I haven't lived here since I was a baby. We have been travelling about a good deal, so I haven't had a chance to know many people. Mamma wanted me to come this afternoon."

There was something exceedingly pleasant in her straightforward manner.

"I don't care much for parties myself," said Carl, "but if you want to get acquainted you must not stick in a corner."

"What must I do?" Dora asked, smiling.

"Well, to begin with, you make friends with somebody who knows somebody else, and so on. It is very easy."

"Then I have begun with you, though I do not know your name."

"Very well, here goes! My name is Carl Hazeltine, the girl over by the oak tree is my sister Louise, the boy with her is Isaac Ford-the one who is laughing I mean; next to him is Elsie Morris, and that fellow coming this way is Aleck Hazeltine, my cousin, and-"

Dora put out her hand appealingly. "I can't possibly remember so many, and I haven't told you my name. It is Dora Warner."

"We used to have a cat named Dora," Carl remarked gravely, taking a small round glass from his pocket and composedly surveying his necktie, "a nice, white, meek little pussy cat."

"I had a dog once, when we were in London, named Carl-o. He was a curly dog and ever so vain when we tied a ribbon on his collar," was the prompt response. Then they both laughed merrily, and Carl asked with friendly interest, "Were you really in London!"

"Yes, we were there last winter."

"Wasn't it great fun?"

"No, for papa was ill, and mamma always with him, so I was lonely."

Something in Dora's tone made Carl notice that her sash was black.

"So I suppose her father is dead," he thought, but could think of nothing to say, and jumping up suddenly was off like a flash.

Dora thought her new acquaintance a funny one, but his friendly manner had made her feel cheerful again.

She saw him coming back presently, accompanied by a little girl with soft dark eyes and a sweet face which she recognized at once.

"This is my sister Bess," he announced.

Bess sat down beside her, saying gravely, "Carl says you don't know anyone. Wouldn't you like to come and play with us? We are going to begin a new game."

Dora was quite ready. "Only I am afraid I shall not know how," she said.

"That won't make the least difference, for we haven't any of us played it before. It is very easy-just throwing bean-bags," and, taking her hand in a friendly clasp, Bess led her toward a gay group that was all in an uproar over some of Aleck's nonsense.

"Here comes that odd-looking girl," whispered Elsie to Helen. "Just see what a plain dress she has on!"

"Why, you are the girl who brought our Carie home yesterday, aren't you?" cried Louise, as Bess introduced Dora.

"Are you really? She has been talking about you all day. Carl, it was Dora who found Carie," Bess exclaimed delightedly.

From this moment the charmed circle was open to her. Dora could hardly believe she was not dreaming. To be taken into the midst of all the fun under the protection of her new friends-to find herself suddenly popular! What could have seemed more incredible half an hour before? Louise, who was a born leader, and whose bright face and sunny temper made her a general favorite, took her in charge, and Dora entered so heartily into the game, laughing so merrily at her mistakes, that her companions begun at once to like her.

"Come, Elsie, aren't you going to play?" asked Bess.

"I don't know how," was her reply, in a fretful tone.

"It is perfectly easy," said one of the others.

"Never mind; she doesn't know beans," laughed Aleck, tossing a bag to Dora.

"I know you are very rude," pouted Elsie.

"Do play," urged Dora, running to her. "I will show you exactly how," and half reluctantly she yielded, for she really wanted to play. Before they were through the game, supper interrupted, and gave them something else to think about.

Mrs. May, remembering the stranger and coming to look for her, concluded that she was quite able to take care of herself, for she seemed to be having an extremely good time.

A good time truly it was, Dora thought, as she sat among her new friends.

"I am so glad we are acquainted with you," Louise said.

"I am sure I am glad," she answered, "and I do hope I shall see Carie again sometime. There is one thing I must tell you," she continued. "The other day I walked by your house, and I was so tired I sat down on your carriage-block to rest. It was very quiet, and nobody was in sight, and I was sitting there thinking how very big your front door was-"

"How did you know it was our house?" asked Bess.

"I didn't then, but presently the door opened and you two came out. You had on blue dresses, and Louise had a book, and you came and sat under a tree not very far from me."

"Why, we didn't see you!"

"I know you did not, and, of course, I ought to have gone away, but"-here Dora's face flushed-"I couldn't help hearing the beginning of your story, and then I forget what I was doing-it was dreadful; I want you to know about it-I listened to all you said."

"How funny! And we did not see you! Why, Dora, we don't care a bit, do we, Bess?"

"I am very glad if you don't. I was so ashamed of myself. I hoped some day I should know you, but I did not think it would happen so soon," and Dora heaved a sigh of relief.

"But isn't it funny that you should have found Carie?" said Bess.

"And then have tripped me up," added Carl, joining them. "It is really as curious as our getting acquainted with Miss Brown."

"Who is Miss Brown?" asked Elsie.

"She is a person who has lately moved into Nottingham castle," he replied gravely.

"Robin Hood broke one of her windows," added Aleck.

"What does he mean? I don't understand it at all," fretted Elsie, who was so easily teased the boys could never resist the temptation.

"Carl is talking nonsense. I will tell you about her sometime," said Bess.

"Good-by, Dora," said Louise when the happy evening was over and they were starting home. "I think we ought to be friends because you found Carie; don't you, Bess?"

Bess certainly thought so, for she had taken a desperate fancy to this new acquaintance.

"You must come to see me; Helen and all of you," Dora said cordially.

"Mamma, I have had a beautiful time, I am glad I went," she exclaimed, standing beside her mother's couch a few minutes later. "Does your head ache? Then I'll wait till to-morrow to tell you about it;" and she went to bed to dream pleasant dreams.

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