by Sophie May
CHAPTER XIII
"IF I WERE ONLY YOU!"
The third Saturday and Sunday before the ending of term, Dorothea spentwith her "intimate" friend, Alma Montague.
Alma's home was a very beautiful one at Elizabeth Bay, and, as Dot toldher mother, there were parlour-maid, housemaid, kitchen-maid and everyother sort of maid there.
Dot slept in one of the visitor's rooms, and had a bathroom and asitting-room opening off her bedroom for her exclusive use. Thesitting-room and bedroom were "treated" with the same colouring--atender wonderful shade of blue. The wall paper was just suggestive ofblue; the ceiling was delicately veined with blue; the curtains were,Dot felt certain, blue. The easy chairs and the lounge, the footstoolsand the cushions were dull blue.
Such a beautiful room.
Again, in the bedroom, there were delicate suggestions of blue among thewhiteness.
And the bathroom! How different in every way from the little woodenunlined room at home. There the ceiling-joists were gracefully festoonedwith cobwebs, the floor had many a great hole in it, caused by white antand damp. No water was laid on--only a tap came from a tank outside,which in its turn was fed from an underground well. And whenever Dotwanted a bath she had to coax or bribe Cyril or Betty to work the pump.Dot herself hated working the pump--it blistered her little hands.
Here the floor was leaded the walls tiled, the bath itself painted adelicate sea blue. There was a square of carpet just beyond the edge ofthe lead; a cushioned chair, two hospitable taps, one offering cold, onehot water. All sorts of toilet luxuries were at hand, pretty colouredsoaps, loofahs, lavender-water, ammonia, violet powder, violet scent.
No wonder poor Dot was in an ecstasy with her surroundings, and that sheroamed round her rooms and sighed with happiness because she was here,and with sorrow because she was going away in two days.
On Saturday morning she and Alma went shopping. They breakfasted aloneat nine o'clock, Alma's father being in his consulting-room and hermother in bed (she had been at the theatre on Friday evening and Dot hadnot even seen her).
So the two girls lingered over a very dainty breakfast table till nearlyten o'clock, when Alma suggested "shopping."
Dot had only two frocks, besides her morning pink print with her. Onewas a blue muslin that had to last her for next week at school; theother was a white muslin and her best. She had taken them out of herdress-basket and hung them carefully in her pretty wardrobe, and nowthat Alma spoke of shopping she was in miserable doubt which to wear.
"I'm going to wear a blue," said Alma, "you wear yours, too, Thea dear,and then people will think we are sisters. Sisters! Oh, don't I wish Ihad a sister!"
Dot, who possessed three, shook her head as she handled her muslindress.
"I think it's very nice to be the only one," she said. "The only child!It's lovely!"
"But I'm so lonely except when I'm at school," said Alma sadly.
Dot opened her eyes. She was just slipping her blue frock carefully overher shining curly head, but she stopped with her head half through towonder at Alma.
"Lonely!" she said. "Here! In this house! And you've got your father andmother!"
Alma shook her head dolefully.
"Father is always busy," she said, "and mother is always out--orentertaining. Oh, Thea, I would love to have you for my very own sister.I would give everything I have if I could have you."
Dorothea smiled kindly. Mona Parbury had told her the same--and MinnieStevenson, and Nellie Harden. They all wanted her for their _very_ ownsister. It was only such little madcaps as her own sisters, Betty andNancy, who were indifferent.
Alma was small and undeveloped. She was seventeen and looked hardlyfifteen. Her large dark eyes looked pathetic in her thin sallow face.Her lips were thin and colourless, her hair straight and dull brown. Noprettiness at all belonged to her. Only wistfulness and gentleness.
So they went shopping together, the two little girls in blue. And theyhad no chaperon at all with them, no schoolmistress, or governess, ormother, or aunt--no one to direct their eyes where they should look, andtheir smiles when they should be given out and when withheld. No one tocarry the purse.
Dot had two shillings and sixpence halfpenny in her small worn purse.Her mother had slipped the money in. "I can't bear for you to be withoutmoney, Dot dear," she had said, "but try your best not to spend it."
Alma's purse seemed full of half-crowns and shillings and sixpences!
Dot bought herself a new hat-band and a pretty lace-trimmedhandkerchief; and she tried to hide from Alma how very little both hadcost.
Alma made several peculiar mistakes in her purchases. For instance, shebought just twice as much gold liberty silk as she would need for asash, and she had to beg Dot to accept the part that was too much, asshe would be so tired of the thing if she had two _just_ alike. And shebought a pair of size two evening shoes, and remembered when they weregoing home that size two was a size too big for her. She wished she knewof any one who wore two's. Dot wore three's, didn't she? No?--two's! Howlovely! Then Dot would take the shoes, wouldn't she, and save them frombecoming mouldy! And she bought two pretty lace-trimmed collars, justalike--and she hated two of her things to be alike. So Dot would takeone off her hands, wouldn't she?
Only each time she said "Thea," or "Thea darling!" And she bought her asilver "wish" bangle as a keepsake, and a little scent bottle and fanfor "remembrance."
Before they went home they went into an arcade shop and had strawberriesand cream, and a big ice cream and sponge cake each. And they metseveral straw-hatted youths to whom Alma bowed.
She told Dot to count how many hats were taken off to her, and Dotcounted, and behold, the number was ten.
Dot herself felt rather envious. She only knew one grammar-school boy,who smiled from ear to ear and blushed with delight on seeing her.
Then they went home.
When they opened the dining-room door the table was set for luncheon,and a bald-headed gentleman was waiting at the head of it, a bookpropped up before him.
When the girls came in he went on reading just as before, deaf to theirchatter, blind to the pretty blue of their dresses.
Alma ran down the room to him, and kissed the top of his head.
"Home again, father!" she said.
And then he looked up smiling, and stroked her little sallow face withone finger.
"This is my _very_ dearest friend--Dorothea Bruce!" said Almadelightedly, and drawing Dot forward.
The great doctor, who was small in stature, stood up then and tooklittle Dot's hand in his, and a very kindly smile came to his eyes as helooked into her lovely childish face.
"I'm very glad to see my daughter's dearest friend," he said, and hepatted her soft pink cheeks also.
The door opened again just as this introduction was over, and a newnervousness attacked Alma. Another tinge of yellowness crept into herskin, her eyes grew wistful, and she began to stammer.
"My f-friend, mother--Thea--Dorothea Bruce," and Dot turned curiouslyand shyly round to the door. Entering there was a very beautiful womanin a tea gown. Her eyes were like Alma's, only far lovelier, hercomplexion was only a few years less fresh and perfect than Dorothea'sown--and her hair was red-gold and beautiful.
When her glance rested on Dorothea's face, a look of pleasure creptinto them--just pleasure at seeing any one so flower-like and sweet asthis little maid from school.
"I am very pleased to see you, dear," she said graciously, and shestooped forward and kissed the girl's cheek.
Then she looked at Alma--poor undersized Alma, with her yellow skin andbloodless lips--and she sighed. But she kissed her also, and asked howshe had spent her morning and whether she had come from school thismorning or yesterday afternoon.
When luncheon became the order of the day conversation died out. Dr.Montague, indeed made two or three attempts at light talk--but Dot wasshy and Alma was nervous and Mrs. Montague was apparently elsewhere inthought, so that presently silence fell.
Dinner was at seven that night. It was a meal of many courses, severalwines two servants, and finger glasses. And again Dot was perfectly ifsilently happy--although the finger glasses (of which she had seen nonebefore) threw, her off her balance until she had stolen a glance atAlma to "see how she did," whereupon Dot performed the operation withinfinitely more grace than Alma.
Alma wore a white silk dress and gold sash, and Dorothea white muslinand gold sash, and the doctor's eyes went from one little whitely cladmaid to the other, smilingly.
The happy look on his small daughter's face pleased him greatly.
His wife often said he neither saw nor heard what was going on aroundhim, but he had very soon discovered his little girl's supremecontentment.
He asked Dorothea if she were going away for Christmas and the holidays,and Dorothea shook her golden head and said, "No; she was going to stayat home."
Whereupon he asked Alma if she wouldn't like to carry her "dearestfriend" up the mountains with her, and Alma went quite pink with delightand said--
"Oh, Father! Oh, Thea _dear_!"
And Dot raised her pretty shy eyes and said--
"Oh, Alma!" and then looked at Mrs. Montague as if to ask if suchhappiness was possible.
Mrs. Montague laughed.
"I will write and ask your mother," she said, "but we really can't take'no.'" And she said it so graciously that the tears came into Alma'seyes.
"It would be _too_ lovely!" said Dot breathlessly.
On Sunday afternoon, just as the evening shadows were stealing out andthe daylight was growing grey, Alma ran into the little bluesitting-room, her great eyes luminous.
"Oh, Thea _darling!_" she said, and then she stopped in surprise. Only alittle while ago Dot had tripped upstairs, her hair in a golden plaitdown her back, her dress not so low as her boot-tops by quite threeinches.
And now! She was sitting in an easy chair, her dress skirt lowered tillit reached the floor, her hair loosely done up on the top of her head,her blue, blue eyes staring through the windows to the darkeningharbour waters, afar off.
She blushed rosily red when Alma ran in.
"I--I was just thinking," she said.
"What were you thinking of, Thea?" asked Alma, "and what have you doneyour hair like this for? You _do_ look so pretty--I wish the girls couldsee you."
Dot pulled her friend towards her and patted the arm of her chair forher to sit there. Then she leaned her head upon Alma's shoulder and heldone of her hands between her own two.
"I was _wishing_ I were grown-up, really grown-up," she said; "I did myhair up to see how I looked. I tried to do it like your mother doeshers."
Alma stroked her head gently.
"My mother is in love with you," she said. "She has just been saying allsorts of _beautiful_ things about you. She says she wishes you were herdaughter."
"Oh!" said Dot. "Her daughter! How I _wish_ I were!"--and no disloyaltyto her own mother was meant. "To live here always! To be rich! To----"
She paused. "Oh, Alma," she added, "you _are_ a lucky girl."
But Alma only sighed.
Dot began to think again, comparing in her own mind this home of Alma'swith her own little bush home.
"Oh!" she said at last; "How happy you ought to be. How would you liketo change places with me!"
And to her surprise Alma burst into tears, covering her face with herlittle trembling hands.
Gentle ways belonged to Dorothea.
She stood up and put her friend into her chair and then she knelt besideher, and slipped her arm round her waist.
"_Dearest_ Alma!" she whispered.
"Oh," sobbed Alma, "if only you were my _very_ own sister Thea--I_couldn't_ love you more. I'm _so_ lonely. Father is always busy, andmother--mother is disappointed in me."
Dot opened her eyes in surprise. She had never dreamed of a mother being_disappointed_ in her child.
"I'm not pretty--or clever--or _any_thing," sobbed Alma. "She's alwaysbeen disappointed in me--ever since I was a tiny baby--and I've alwaysknown it--and--and--she doesn't know I know. Oh dear!"
Dot was shocked. "Darling Alma!" she said again.
"It's dreadful to be the only child--and to be a disappointment," saidAlma. "I think father is sorry for us both."
Dot stroked the girl's straight hair.
"You've got lovely eyes," she said, "and you're very clever at crotchetwork."
"What's that!" said Alma drearily. "Mother wouldn't mind if I nevertouched a needle. She says if a girl hasn't beauty she has only oneother chance in the world--and that is to be brilliant. I _do_ try to beclever--but it's no good."
Dot kissed her.
"When you are grown up you'll look different," she said. "You'll wearlong trailing dresses--and--do your hair like this--and----"
But Alma sprang to her feet.
"What a croaker I am," she said. "I _never_ told this to any onebefore. Thea--it is my very _biggest_ secret. You'll never tell any one,will you? Never! never! Father says if I'm good I'll be beautiful enoughfor _him_. But oh, I wish I were you!"
"And _I've_ been wishing I were you," said Dot.
"I suppose," said Alma, with one of her most wistful looks, "I supposewe're _meant_ to be ourselves for some reason. And we must make the bestof ourselves just as we are!"
And the two girls kissed each other tenderly.
"I've to be an elder sister," said Dot, with a sudden thought towardsMona Parbury.
"And I've to be an only child," said Alma, "and we've both to make thebest of our state of life--eh?"
