CHAPTER XXIV
THE PAINTED FACE
Human life seems so like that depicted in the elements about us; apatch of blue here, and a streak of blackness stealing up there tocover it. A glint of gold there and a flurry of smoke almost upon it.So with life: brightness is so closely followed by shadows that gloomand glow become inseparable. Perhaps the contrasts save us from theblinding glare of extremes; it may be well to have even our joystempered with moderation.
It had been such a happy day--Tavia felt she had never before known howto enjoy life. There had been many happy times of course, in Dalton,and Dorothy had often surprised her with entirely unexpected littletreats; but somehow this was different, there was so much to be enjoyedat once.
Ah, Tavia! that is why reaction comes so suddenly. You left Naturebehind you in Dalton--human wild flowers have a hard time of it whenfirst thrust upon the pavements of social concrete.
Dorothy was with Tavia in the pretty bedroom. The moonlight made itsway in at the curtained windows, and the two girls were clinging toeach other there on the cushioned seat, trying to "think it out,"Dorothy said.
"I had such a lovely time," sobbed Tavia, "and every one had been sogood to me. But I could not help it Doro dear. When that Rosabel came Isaw the difference--I saw I never could be your friend when we grew up.And then I got to thinking about home--Dorothy, I must go. I must talkabout that money with dear mother and father and even littleJohnnie--he did seem to need me so much! And I have been so selfish--toleave them all."
"Now, Tavia, you make me feel badly. It is I who am selfish to take youaway, but I am sure your mother particularly wanted you to come, andyour father was so pleased. I tell you, dear it is all that money. Youjust feel you cannot wait to talk all about it, and I don't blame youat all. You shall go home just as soon as you want to."
"But you must stay," said Tavia, brightening up at the thought of goinghome. "I came to be company for you, but you do not need me."
Was there just a sign of jealousy in her words? Dorothy instantlydetected a change--Tavia drew herself up so like other girls, but sounlike Tavia.
"Not need you! Why, Tavia, who in all this world could take yourplace," and her arms were wound around the neck of the weeping girl,while the fondest sister-kiss was pressed to the tear-stained cheek.
"My, what a goose I am!" suddenly exclaimed Tavia, springing up. "Inever was homesick or had the real blues in all my life, and I do notpropose to do the baby act now. So there," and she gave a hearty hug toDorothy. "I'm done with blubbering, and I'm more ashamed of myself thanI was the day I ran away after the row with Sarah. Now, I'll beat youto bed, and to sleep, too, for that matter. We will have to do sometall snoring to catch up with the rosy Rosabel--her cheeks will makeours look like putty."
It was late, and Dorothy was glad to feel that Tavia had conquered herhomesickness, for that is what Dorothy insisted the attack was. It was,however, the first--but the pain it left in Tavia's heart did not healat once, nor did it leave the spot unscarred.
Mrs. White had prudently left the girls to themselves, but now, by somestrange intuition she felt the "storm" was over, and sent a maid to askDorothy if some crackers or an ice would not taste good. In replyingthe girls discovered they were not the only ones up late, and presentlythe entire party had assembled in the beautiful chintz dining room, andthe ices were being served between good-natured "jollyings."
"That hair cut went to your head," Ned told Tavia, "but wait until I godown for the tresses, I'll scare Mike stiff--make him believe wethought he had 'cribbed' them."
Tavia was entirely herself now, and had word for word with the jollyboys.
Mrs. White studied her closely, but of course, unobserved. She was afine girl, no doubt of it, and a pleasant companion for Dorothy. Herhumor was as pure as the bubbles in the brook, and just as unfailing.And what a pretty girl she was! Those hazel eyes and that bronze head.No wonder even the foreign barber had noted that it was "scarce."
"A veritable wildflower," concluded the hostess, just as others hadsaid; Major Dale for instance.
Dorothy was of an entirely different type. Her beauty was the sort thatgrows more and more attractive, as character develops, not dependingupon mere facial outline.
"Now, children, off to bed with you," said Mrs. White, touching thebell to tell the maid the late lunch was over, "and to-morrow you knowwe go to camp. You will not have a headache, Tavia?"
"I have never had one in my life," answered Tavia, in that polite toneshe always used in speaking to the hostess. "Perhaps my head does notknow enough to ache."
"Blissful ignorance then," replied Mrs. White, "see to it that younever become so worldly-wise as to learn how. A head that does not acheis a joy forever."
Hasty good nights were exchanged, and this time there was no "wakingnight-mare" for Tavia. She wanted to sleep--young hearts may ache oncein a while, but they have a comfortable habit of deferring to tirednature at least once in twenty-four hours.
So the Cedars rustled to their hearts' content, and the pines whisperedderisively at their attempt to make themselves heard in the world ofmusic makers--poor little stunted cedars! So small beside the giantpines, so useless in a tree's great province--to give shade; but thatfile of trees, scarcely taller than a hedge, had for years and yearsmade the division between one land and another, so they stood for thatat least. As Nat had explained to Tavia "they knew where to draw theline."
The morning that followed was one of those beautiful streaks ofNature's capriciousness when she allows spring to turn back and giveorders to summer. It was late in June, yet the air was soft and balmy,and the sunshine behaved so nicely that Tavia, looking out of herwindow actually found dew on the honeysuckle, and saw there was no needto close blinds at even ten o'clock--which was late for dew certainly,and late for a girl like Tavia Travers to get her first romp out ofdoors.
Dorothy looked in mischievously.
"We didn't call you," she said smiling, "because you were so anxiousabout your cheeks, you know. Let me see. I do declare, Tavia Travers,is that a blush? Or did you dream you were Rosabel? Now don't try totell me that's perfectly natural. It isn't--it's simply divine," andshe gave her friend a reassuring kiss.
"When we get to talking such nonsense," said Tavia with as muchseverity as she could summon on short notice, "I think we should dosomething for it--get busy at something you know. It is plainly theresult of downright idleness."
"Dr. Gray's prescription, you know. But now for camp. The boys havegone on ahead, and Aunt Winnie is going to stop at the hotel for lunch,She said she thought we would enjoy it."
"Oh, I will, I am sure," answered Tavia, promptly. "That's what worriesme, I am getting to enjoy everything. What in the world will I do whenI get back to Dalton?"
"Write letters to Nat, I suppose. Now don't get any deeper shade ofred, dear. The one that you woke up with is so becoming."
"How much time have we?" asked Tavia, bestowing more care on thebrushing of her short hair now than she had ever thought of giving themass that the barber still had in his keeping.
"Perhaps an hour, but we want to get out on the lawn, for a game ofball before we start. I am just dying to play real ball! I do miss Joeand Roger so!"
"I am sure they miss you, too, Doro. I have been wondering how you havemanaged to keep away from them."
"Well, I have to you know. Besides I get a letter every day. Joe saidyesterday that your folks had taken the Baldwin house."
"Father said in his letter he expected to. But do you know, Doro, Iwould never advise a poor girl to go out of her own territory, I thinkI shall be unhappy now--at home."
"Nonsense. You will enjoy the simple life more thoroughly than ever.That is only a scruple, you are afraid you shouldn't enjoy anything butDalton. You know perfectly well you would rather digJacks-in-the-pulpit out by our back wall, than snatch thosehoneysuckles at your window."
"Perhaps," said Tavia vaguely. "But I guess you are right, Doro. Youalways are. I am just afr
aid to think of anything but what we've got."
"Not even the five hundred?"
"Oh, that is what upsets me. I shall expect it to make us millionaires."
"And so it will in happiness. I can't blame you one bit for wanting toget home to talk it over."
"Oh, that was yesterday. To-day I want to go to camp."
Dorothy looked at her uneasily. She remembered it was told her oncethat sudden changes were always unwholesome to young people.
"It must be that," she told herself, "Tavia has had too many suddenchanges lately. And she always was so sentimental. I believe, afterall, it is best for girls to keep busy at practical things. Tavia hasnever been trained."
"Now," said Tavia, who had been fixing before the pretty dressingtable, "I'm ready. But I have a plan--to help Nat out with Rosabel'scomplexion test."
"Oh, he was only joking," exclaimed Dorothy. "He wouldn't be so rude."
"It's no harm, I'm sure; I've done it lots of times. Come out and I'llshow you."
Out on the lawn Tavia ran about like the girl she used to be. She waslooking for something. Down behind the hedge of Cedars then out on theopen fields patches of clover and daisies were tangled--they grewoutside the Cedars; beyond the line.
"Here it is!" she called to Dorothy. "Such a lovely bunch."
Then running back she brought to Dorothy a long stem of mullen leaves.
"What are they for?" asked Dorothy, for she knew the common plant wellenough.
"To paint our cheeks with, and it doesn't come off! Won't Rosabel besurprised."
"But I wouldn't think of putting those sticky leaves to my face,"objected Dorothy.
"Why, they're not poison," said Tavia, beginning to unfold the velvetleaves that look so soft and are really so very "scratchy."
"Don't!" begged Dorothy. "It is just as bad as paint, and paint ispositively vulgar. I am sure you were mistaken about Rosabel. Norespectable girl would be so foolish."
But Tavia was rubbing the leaves to her pink cheeks with absolutedisregard of everything but "rubbing." That seemed to be the one thingnecessary in the operation.
Presently a deep red stained her cheeks. She felt the sting but wantedto make sure it was all rubbed on.
"Does it burn?" asked Dorothy in surprise that Tavia should reallycarry out her threat to make her cheeks redder than Rosabel's.
"A little," admitted Tavia. "Don't you want to try it?"
"Not for worlds," answered Dorothy. "Since you say it will not wash offhow are you going to explain it?"
"Sunburn," promptly answered the other, with a subtlety surprising toDorothy.
"You really must not help the boys play any joke on Miss Glen," saidDorothy. "You know they are Aunt Winnie's neighbors, and we are herguests."
"Oh, all right, if you feel that way about it," said Tavia a littlestiffly, "perhaps, Dorothy, I had better have a headache and not go outto camp--I don't mean to be pouty," she hurried on, "but really,Dorothy, I have never been able to withstand that sort of temptationand I might embarrass you. I wouldn't do it for anything, Doro."
Dorothy Dale was perplexed. First Tavia had said sunburn instead ofmullen leaves, and now she was willing to substitute headache forrudeness. Wasn't she learning a trifle too fast? Aunt Winnie neveradvocated that sort of thing--the rich may be just as honest as thepoor, and more so, for they have opportunities of discerning the greatdifference between a gentle and polite way of saving persons' feelingsand the rude unpardonable way of seeking refuge behind little quibblesat the expense of truth.
"We were only joking, of course," said Dorothy finally, jumping up fromher seat on the old tree stump, "But it is different where some oneelse is concerned. Everybody is not willing to take a joke you know."
"I've noticed that lately," replied Tavia, pressing both hands to hercheeks to stop, if possible, the burning of the mullen leaves. "But youknow I once promised to show you how I looked painted. Now I've kept mypromise."
The flaming red of her cheeks seemed to make her eyes blaze as well,and it could not be denied she looked wonderfully pretty--or would lookso at longer range, through opera glasses, perhaps. But in calmdaylight there was something strange about her face. The short bronzehair, the dancing hazel eyes,--
"Tavia," exclaimed Dorothy, dismay in her voice, "I am so sorry--youlook like--an actress."
Dorothy Dale: A Girl of To-Day Page 24
