Dorothy Dainty at Glenmore

by Amy Brooks

  CHAPTER VIII

  A BIT OF SPITE

  For several days Patricia was so busy thinking, that Arabella feltrather lonely. Arabella had been writing a letter to her Aunt Matilda,and endeavoring to answer all the questions that that peculiar woman hadasked. It had occupied her spare time for two days, and was not yetready to mail.

  "O dear!" sighed Arabella, "I don't like to write letters."

  "Don't write them," Patricia advised.

  "Why, Patricia Levine! You know if I didn't answer Aunt Matilda's lettershe'd pack her suit-case, and come right here!"

  "Good gracious! Hurry up and finish it," cried Patricia. "I wouldn'twant her coming here."

  "I've got a cold, so I couldn't go out to mail it," drawled Arabella.

  "Don't let that stop you," cried Patricia, "for I'll gladly go out tomail it for you, if it'll keep your Aunt Matilda away."

  Later, when Patricia went down the hall on the way to post the letter,she saw that Dorothy's door was slightly ajar. Of course Patricia'ssharp eyes saw it, and, because she never could resist the temptation tolisten, where she might hear something not intended for her ears, shepaused.

  Nancy was speaking of the man that she had seen standing at the edge ofthe forest, on the day of the sleigh-ride. Again she told Dorothy how ithad frightened her, adding:

  "He looked just like Bonfanti, the ballet-teacher, and I believe if Ishould look from our window and see him out there, looking toward thishouse, I'd not dare to go out for days."

  Dorothy tried to comfort her, by saying:

  "But, Nancy dear, we've _not_ seen him since that day, and he's milesaway from here by this time, as likely as not."

  Patricia needed to hear no more. She could not make Nancy less popular,but here was a fine chance for annoying her.

  It was strange what pleasure it afforded Patricia to make othersunhappy! She never seemed to know that in striving to annoy others, shewas constantly proving that she herself was disagreeable.

  She hastened out to the nearest mail box with the letter, and thenreturning to her room, sat down to think.

  "I wish you'd talk," said Arabella. "It's awful dull this cloudyafternoon."

  Patricia was in no mood for talking, and Arabella dared not insist.

  It was after dinner when the pupils met in the cheery reception-hall fora little chat before going to their rooms, that Patricia saw her chance,and took it.

  Some one asked Nancy if she and Dorothy had been out for their usualwalk.

  "It seemed a bit raw," she replied, "so we remained in."

  Patricia, who had been moving nearer, now stood at Nancy's elbow.

  "Did you notice a big, dark man, this morning looking up toward yourwindow?" she asked: "Do you know who he is? We saw him the day of thesleigh-ride, and that was weeks ago. I believe he is always rightaround here, for I don't know how many times I have seen him. He alwayssimply _stares_ toward your windows. I thought perhaps you knew him."

  Nancy turned pale, and Mrs. Marvin, who was near them, saw Dorothy drawNancy closer as if to protect her.

  "Is Nancy ill?" she asked kindly.

  Patricia had left the hall when she saw Mrs. Marvin speaking to Dorothy.

  Dorothy explained how frightened Nancy had been ever since thesleigh-ride, a few weeks before.

  "Come into my apartment and tell me all about this. I am greatlyinterested," she said.

  They were only too glad to escape the curious eyes that now werewatching them, and together they told Mrs. Marvin the story of Nancy'scareer. When they reached the point where Patricia had told them of theman who had stood looking up at their windows that afternoon, a look ofrelief passed over her face, and she actually laughed.

  "You two dear little friends may rest easy to-night," she said, "for theman whom you saw at the edge of the woods, and the man who was hereto-day, looking up at your windows, as Patricia said, are one and thesame person. He is a man who has made a study of all plant life, andespecially wise is he in regard to vines and trees.

  "To-day he was trying to decide just what sort of vine would thrive beston this sunny side of the house. His name is not nearly so picturesqueas Bonfanti. It is Jonathan Scroggs. Not a fine name, surely, but hisname has never hindered him in his profession. He is one of the bestflorists in the country, he knows all about beautiful vines and trees,and he is also a landscape gardener. He can take a plain little cottage,with a small piece of land, and plant just the right kind of trees onthe place, train vines over the porch so as to render it charming, andmake the bit of land into a tiny park, so dainty, so altogether lovelythat people will come from far and near to see the 'beauty spot.' Now doyou care in the least what his name is?"

  "Indeed I do not," Dorothy said, firmly.

  "And oh, how glad I am that he is not Professor Bonfanti!" Nancy said."It was silly to be so frightened, but if only you knew how hard thosemonths were when he was training me, and old Uncle Steve was threateningall sorts of things if I did not dance well! You see, I was really illwith fear, and homesickness, and Uncle Steve did not seem to see thatthe more he threatened, the more ill I became. Oh, if I should talk allday, I could not tell you half the misery of those days. Only yesterdayone of the girls said that she would not have minded any of the harshthings if only she could have danced on the stage. That is what shethinks, but she doesn't know!"

  "Well, Nancy, to-day you are nervous and tired, but I have quieted allyour fears, and assured you that you are safe here at Glenmore. Some daywhen we can arrange it, I would enjoy hearing more of your littlecareer."

  "And I'd be willing to tell you, Mrs. Marvin; you've been so kind, andyou've comforted me. I shall sleep to-night without any horrid dreams."

  Mrs. Marvin felt that Patricia had really intended to frighten Nancy,and she decided to have a quiet little talk with her, and if possible,learn what had prompted her to do so unkind a thing.

  * * * * *

  It was an odd combination that "Glenmore," one of the best of schoolsfor girls in the country, modern in every respect, and absolutely"up-to-date," should be situated in a town that was quaint, andpicturesque, with inhabitants as fanciful, and superstitious as onewould find if he had traveled back a century.

  True, there were residents who had recently come to the place for asummer home, but the old people of the place clung to their old timesuperstitions, their firm belief in "signs," their legends handed downfrom one generation to another, and the newcomers humored them, listenedto their "yarns," and asked to hear more. Many of these stories werequite as interesting as any folk tales, and none could tell them withfiner effect than old Cornelia Derby.

  It was Marcus who had pointed her out to several of the girls who, onemorning, chanced to be standing near the gate as the old woman came upthe street.

  "Oh, Marcus, do you really mean that she can tell all sorts of quaintstories about this old town?" cried Betty Chase.

  "I sure does," said Marcus, "and 'nuffin' pleases her like gittin' achance ter tell 'em ter folks as is willin' ter listen."

  "Now, Valerie," said Betty, turning to her chum, "let's get her to tellus some of the stories she knows about the fine old houses, and thepeople that once lived in them."

  "Fine!" cried Valerie, "but where would we find her?"

  "She lives in a little old hut, 'round behin' the hill over there!" saidMarcus, "an' all yo' has ter do is ter go up dis street, an' yo'll surespot it, long 'fore yo' reach it, 'cause the top half er dat hut is red,an' the bottom half is whitewash. It sure looks mighty quare!"

  "Let's take a walk over there to-morrow, when our lessons are prepared,"said Valerie, "but," she added, "I hope we find it."

  "Yo' couldn't miss it," said Marcus, "for all yo' has ter do is ter goup dis street, an' turn ter yo' left, den go a piece, an' turn ter yo'right, an' walk 'til yo' come ter a big yaller house, an' dat's 'bouthalf-way. Nex' yo' cross a field, skip over de place where de brook isin summer an' come ter a piece er wall, stone wall, 'tis, a
n' it don'tseem ter b'long ter no place 'tall, an' de hut is jes' a little waysbeyond."

  The sound of a bell sent them hurrying toward the house.

  "Do you expect to remember all that?" Valerie asked on the way to theclass-room.

  "If you do you'll be a wonder. I've forgotten it now."

  Betty nodded confidently.

  "We'll go over there to-morrow," she said.

  The next afternoon, Betty helped Valerie with some puzzling problemsthat must be solved before starting out.

  Then with confidence on Betty's part, and much doubt in Valerie's mindas to their ability to find the hut, they set off on the long walk.After twice enquiring of people whom they met, of taking a long walk inthe wrong direction, and retracing their steps, they finally espied thepiece of stone wall that seemed to belong to "no place at all," asMarcus had said.

  Glad to rest, they paused there to look about them, and to wait forVera and Elf, who had promised to meet them. Neither was in sight,although they had said that they would be prompt. Snow and ice had fled,and now everywhere were signs of spring. Vera had declared that the longwalk was what she needed, and Elf had said that she would endure thewalk for the sake of hearing the quaint stories of the town and itspeople that old Cornelia would tell.

  At the end of the wall Betty and Valerie waited.

  "I'd not wait much longer," Valerie said.

  "I surely will _not_!" Betty replied, "for if they are coming, they'llbe here in a few minutes."

  It was evident that the two girls had, for some reason, been detained,and Betty determined to wait no longer.

  AT THE END OF THE WALL BETTY AND VALERIE WAITED.--_Page150._]

  "Come!" she cried. "We'll go on now to the little hut, and if Veraand Elf come poking along a half-hour later, they can just sit on thiswall, and see if they enjoy waiting as well as we did."

  It was but a short distance, and they ran part of the way to make up forlost time, but when they reached the gate they found, as Valerie glancedat her tiny watch, that it was later than they thought, and was alreadyabout time for them to turn toward Glenmore, if they did not wish to belate.

  Hours were strictly kept at the school, and all pupils must return fromrecreation in time to give themselves personal care, and be in the lowerhall at five-thirty for a friendly chat before going to the dining-roomat six.

  Mrs. Marvin insisted that every pupil look her best at all times.

  It was now four o'clock. It would take a half-hour to reach Glenmore.That meant that not more than a half-hour could be spent at the hut.

  There was no answer to their repeated knocking, but as they turned to gothey saw old Cornelia coming toward them along the road, a big basket onher arm.

  "Well, well, two fine little callers I find waiting for me," she said."And what can I do for you?"

  "We wanted you to tell us all about some of the old buildings and theinteresting stories about the people who lived in them," said Betty,"but it's so late now that I don't believe there's time. We have to beback at Glenmore at five."

  "Then sit right down here on my garden-seat and I'll tell you theshortest tale I know, and some other day if you come when you have moretime I'll tell you more."

  "Oh, that will be fine!" they cried, as with one voice.

  "How would you like to hear about the wishing-well?"

  "That sounds _great_!" declared Betty and then: "Could you begin it with'Once upon a time?'"

  "Surely," was the quick response, "and now I think of it, I'm sure youmust have passed the old wishing-well on your way here. The old well wassupposed to have magic power, and long ago when the old Paxton House wasstanding, people came, for miles around, to be near the old well in thegarden, and wish for their heart's desire, feeling sure that their wishwould be granted.

  "Of course the idea was absurd, but the townspeople of those days weresuperstitious, so that if those things that they wished for beside thewell never came to them, they thought that they must have forgotten toask for them in the right way, and later they would try again.

  "If they obtained the thing that they had wished for, they laid theirgood fortune entirely to the fact that the old well must have approvedof them."

  "And where is it!" Valerie asked. "You said that we must have passedit."

  "The old well has a flat wooden cover over it now, with an iron bar tokeep it in place, lest some one be careless and fall in, though now thewild blackberry vines have nearly hidden it from sight. Even now whenonly young leaves are on the brambles, the thorny stems make a networkover the cover. The old Paxton House was gone before my time," Mrs.Derby said, "but a part of its fine wall remains. It was upon that wallthat the wishers sat.

  "Did you happen to notice a fine piece of wall that seemed to belong tono one at all, and ended in a broad field?"

  "The idea!" cried Betty. "Why we _sat_ on that piece of wall, and couldhave 'wished' just as well as not, if only we'd known it."

  "And it's almost half-past four now," said Valerie. "S'pose we run alongtoward Glenmore, and stop just long enough to sit on the wall and wish.We can be on time at five, if we do that. Then we could come over someday when we've more time, and hear all about the well, and otherstories, too."

  It was a good idea, because it was already so late that they couldremain but a few moments longer, so with an urgent invitation to comeagain, and a promise to do so, they ran back to the old wall, lookingback to wave their hands to the little woman who waved in return.