Dick and Dolly

CHAPTER XVIII

A LOVELY PLAN

When the boys reached the group assembled in the library, Dolly had just begun to tell the story of the fire.

Up to that time, the aunts had been employed in dressing the burned finger, and in recovering their own mental poise.

“You see,” Dolly was saying, “it was an accident, Aunt Rachel, but it wasn’t mischief, for you told me yourself how you used to make a fire in that little stove.”

“Oh,” said Aunt Rachel, comprehending at last. “Did you girls make a fire in the playhouse stove?”

“Yes’m; the pipe was up, you know, and it burned all right, – it hardly smoked at all. Then one of the paper dolls fell against it and set fire to all the rest.”

“The stove got so awful hot,” observed Pinkie, “and it was trying to pick up that paper doll that Dolly burned her finger.”

“And upset the stove?” asked Aunt Abbie.

“No, Auntie, the stove didn’t upset. But Mrs. Obbercrombie caught ablaze, and then she fell over against the other paper people, and they all flared up.”

“Whew, Dolly!” exclaimed Dick. “Then you kindled that whole fire yourself! You ought to have known better than to stuff a place with paper dolls and then set a match to it!”

“But I didn’t, Dick,” declared Dolly. “The fire was all right at first, only it kept making the little stove hotter and hotter, until it went off.”

“Well, it’s lucky Dick heard you yell,” put in Jack, “or the whole of the big house would have burned as well as the little one.”

“I don’t know what to say to you, Dolly,” said Aunt Rachel. “I remember that I did tell you I used to have a fire in that stove, but I only burned a tiny bit of paper and let it go right out. I never thought of a continued fire. And I really think you ought to have realised the danger of a fire near so much light paper.”

“Why, I never once thought of that, Aunt Rachel. I never s’posed fire could jump through an iron stove, and burn up a paper doll! I thought if we kept the little door shut, the flames would stay inside.”

“Oh, Dolly,” said Aunt Abbie, smiling a little in spite of herself, “you should have known better. But you’re not entirely to blame. We did tell you that we used to have real fire in that stove, but father was always with us to look after it. Children should never play with fire alone.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that before, Aunt Abbie?” said Dolly, looking at her with a gentle reproach in her big dark eyes. “If you had, I’d have called you up, ’fore we lit it the first time!”

“Phyllis,” said Miss Rachel, turning to the little guest, “does your mother let you play with fire.”

“Why, no, Miss Rachel,” said Pinkie, in surprise. “But then, mother never lets us do any of the things you let Dick and Dolly do. We haven’t any garden or arbour or Lady Eliza or playhouse – ”

At this, both Pinkie and Dolly began to cry afresh, for they remembered that now Dolly had no playhouse either! That beautiful house and barn and lawn and ponds, – all a mass of black, smoking ruins!

Dolly flew to her Aunt Rachel and buried her head on her broad, comforting shoulder as she sobbed out her woe.

“Oh, Auntie,” she wailed; “isn’t it dreadful! Those lovely little beds and bureaus, and the dolls Aunt Nine dressed, – and the looking-glass lake, and that little spotted pig, – he was so cunning, – and the gilt clock in the parlour, – oh – ooh – o-o-ooh!”

“There, dearie, there, there, – ” soothed Miss Rachel, wondering whether Aunt Nine would think Dolly ought to be punished, and if so, what for.

“I wasn’t naughty, was I, Auntie?” went on Dolly, between her sobs. “I wouldn’t be so naughty as to burn up my dear playhouse on purpose!”

“Of course you didn’t do it on purpose, dear; and I don’t believe you were really naughty. But never mind that, now. Even if you were, you’re punished enough by the loss of the playhouse.”

“Yes, I think I am. We were having such fun, Pinkie and I. And, Auntie, it wasn’t a bit Pinkie’s fault either. We wouldn’t either of us have thought of making a fire, if you hadn’t said we could. I mean, you said you used to do it.”

“Yes, Dolly, dear; I fully realise how it all happened, and I’m not going to blame either you or Phyllis. I think you should have known it was a dangerous pastime, but if you’ll promise never to play with fire or matches again, we’ll count this affair merely as an accident. But it was a pretty bad accident, and I’m very thankful that only the playhouse was burned. I shudder to think what might have happened to you two little girls!”

“And to the whole house!” said Miss Abbie. “If Dick hadn’t heard you scream, and if Michael and Pat hadn’t been at home, we might have no roof over our heads now!”

Then Phyllis and Jack went home, and the others went up to the playroom, to see what was left in the ruins. Michael and Pat were still cleaning up, but the whole room had been more or less affected by the smoke, if not by the flame.

The rug, being a thick, Oriental one, had not suffered much, but the wallpaper and woodwork were sadly marred, the curtains were a wreck, and the furniture was scratched and broken.

As to the playhouse, the actual framework was fairly intact, except where the dining-room had been burned away, but it was blackened and charred everywhere.

Miss Rachel directed the men to take it to the cellar, and leave it there for the present.

“Sometime,” she said, “we may have it rebuilt and re-decorated, but I can’t seem to think about it just now. Do you want to keep any of these things, Dolly?”

Dolly looked over the half-burned toys that Dick and Jack had picked out of the ruins, and more tears came as she recognised what had been the blue satin sofa, and the baby’s crib.

“No, I don’t want them,” she said; “they only make me feel worse.”

Then they found the little stove, that had been the immediate cause of the catastrophe. It was unharmed, except that it looked dull instead of shiny, as before.

“I think you’d better set this on the mantel, Dolly,” said Aunt Abbie, “to remind you not to play with fire.”

“I’ll never play with fire again, Auntie,” said Dolly. “But I will put it on the mantel, to remind me of my dear playhouse. Oh, I did love it so!”

Dolly had a great fondness for all her belongings, and the playhouse, with its myriad delights was her dearest and best beloved possession.

“It’s too bad, Dollums,” said Dick. “If Aunt Rachel ever does decide to have the house done over, I’ll do the yard all over again for you.”

“An’ I’ll make yez a new barn,” said Michael, who was just removing the burned remnants of the old one; “but I can’t be doin’ it this summer; there’s too much other wurrk. Next winter, when the wurrk is lighter, I’ll have a thry at it.”

And none of them felt like doing right over again the work they had done so recently, so the burned-out cottage was put in the cellar, and stayed there for a long time. The playroom itself had to be done over at once.

A carpenter had to come first, and replace the burned window sill, where the curtains had blazed up; then the paper-hangers and painters; so that it was several weeks before the room could be used.

Meantime, Dick and Dolly played out in their out-of-doors playground.

It was now late in May, and the flowering vines had almost covered the long arbour, making a delightful place to sit and read, or make things at the table. The twins loved to make things, and often they thought they’d make furniture for the renovated playhouse, but it’s hard to do things so far ahead, and so they didn’t get at it.

Fortunately Lady Eliza had been on the other side of the playroom during the fire, so had escaped without even a scorch.

But Dick and Dolly played she was a great heroine, and often congratulated her on her narrow escape from the fearful conflagration. They never grew tired of Lady Eliza. She was useful for so many games, and all the children who visited the twins learned to look upon Eliza as one of their own crowd.

“Let’s have a party for Eliza,” said Dolly, one day, as she and Dick were working in their gardens. “Oh, Dick, there’s a thrush! Sh! don’t frighten him.”

Silently the children watched, as a thrush perched on a nearby branch, and sang his best musical selection. There is more sentiment in a thrush’s song than in that of any other of our birds, and though the twins didn’t recognise exactly that fact, they loved to listen to the thrush.

It was their habit, after carefully watching a bird, to look it up in their big, illustrated “Birds of North America,” and learn its name and habits.

“That’s a Hermit Thrush,” whispered Dolly. “See the lots of spots on his chest.”

“Maybe,” said Dick, softly; “but I think it’s the Olive-Backed Thrush. See how brown his back and tail are.”

“Yes, perhaps it is. Listen to his call, – he says ‘Whee-oo! Too-whee!’ We must look him up to make sure. Oh, there comes a robin after him! Now they’ll fight!”

“Go ’way, you horrid thing!” called Dick to the big, fat Robin Redbreast, but unheeding, the robin flew at the thrush, and bothered him, until the thrush flew away, and Dick and Dolly saw it no more.

“I think it’s too bad robins are so cross,” said Dolly, “and they’re so pretty, too. I’d love them, if they wouldn’t pick-peck at the other birds.”

“They are horrid,” said Dick; “but if we didn’t have robins, we wouldn’t have much of anything. There are so few of the other birds, – ’ceptin’ sparrows.”

“That’s so; well, as I was saying before the thrush came, let’s give Lady Eliza a party.”

“Let’s ask Aunt Rachel first,” said Dick.

The twins were learning to ask permission beforehand, when they planned anything out of the ordinary. This had already saved them trouble, and the aunts were already congratulating themselves that the children were learning to “think.”

“Yes, we will. But don’t let’s go in now. Let’s plan it, and then we’ll ask auntie before we really do anything about it.”

“Well, who’ll we invite?”

“That’s ’cordin’ how big the party is. If Auntie Rachel ’grees, let’s have a big party, ’bout a dozen, you know. And if she thinks bestest, we’ll only have Pinkie and Jack.”

“But what’ll make it Eliza’s party?”

“Why, we’ll ask each child to bring a doll or something, so’s to be comp’ny for her.”

“Boys can’t bring dolls.”

“I know; I’m thinking. Well, the boys can bring Teddy bears, or rocking horses or anything that isn’t alive, and that part of it’ll be ’Liza’s party, and the people part will be ours.”

“Sounds good enough. Where’ll we have it?”

“Here, of course; in the playground. We’ll fix it all up partified, and have Japanese lanterns and everything.”

“We can’t have ’em lighted. It’ll have to be a daytime party.”

“I don’t know. Maybe auntie will let us have it ‘four to seven.’ We can light the lanterns by six. It’s ’most dark then.”

“All right. Let’s go ask her now, ’fore we plan any further. It’d be horrid to get it all fixed up and then have her say ‘No.’”

The twins clasped hands and ran toward the house. Dolly’s golden tangle of curls bobbed up and down in the breeze, and Dick’s dark ringlets clustered tighter on his brow, as his face flushed with the exercise, but they ran evenly and swiftly together, keeping perfect step as they flew over the ground.

Bang! In at the library door they went, and tumbled upon Aunt Rachel, who sat in her usual chair, placidly holding her hands.

“Oh, Auntie, may we – ” gasped Dick, and, “Oh, Auntie, the loveliest plan!” panted Dolly, when they suddenly realised their aunt was not alone.

A lady was calling, a lady very much dressed up and formal-looking, who eyed the children with some severity and much curiosity.

But Dick and Dolly had not proved dull pupils in the matter of etiquette as taught in Heatherton households. By no means. As quickly as a soldier stands “at attention,” they stood up straight, advanced decorously to the lady, and Dolly made her most careful courtesy, while Dick bowed correctly.

“How do you do, Mrs. Witherbee?” they said, in decorous tones, and though they were flushed and warm from their run, and just the least mite out of breath, they reflected no discredit on their aunts by boisterous or informal behaviour.

Aunt Rachel and Aunt Abbie sat proudly watching them, silently grateful for the twins’ exhibition of good manners, for Heatherton matrons were critical of other people’s children, and Mrs. Witherbee was one of the most particular of all.

“You may go,” said Aunt Rachel to the twins, after they had been duly questioned by the visitor, and with proper ceremonies of farewell, the twins noiselessly left the room.

“Well, I ’spect we behaved all right that time,” said Dick, as they strolled back to the garden.

“Yes, I promised Aunt Rachel I’d ’member my manners carefuller ’n ever. She does love to have us be polite.”

“I know it; and it isn’t much trouble, after you get used to it.”

It seemed as if Mrs. Witherbee never would finish her call, but it was really only about ten minutes later, when the twins saw her carriage drive away. Again they raced to the house, this time to find the aunties alone and expecting them.

“Well, what’s it all about?” said Miss Abbie, after both ladies had been treated to a fine demonstration of regard and esteem.

“Why, we want to have a party,” began Dick.

“For Lady Eliza,” broke in Dolly; “she’s never had a party, and she’d just love one. How many do you think we’d better ask?”

“A party! For Eliza!” said Aunt Rachel, helplessly. “What do you mean?”

“Yes, a party. Girls and boys, you know, and Teddy Bears, and dolls, and everybody bring something.”

“Bring something! to eat?” exclaimed Aunt Abbie, in dismay, for it sounded like a general picnic.

“Oh, no, not to eat!” explained Dolly; “but to be company for Eliza, ’cause it’s her party. And if you say so, we’ll only have Pinkie and Jack, but we’d like to have more.”

“Tell us about it more slowly,” suggested Aunt Abbie; “and don’t both talk at once.”

“You tell, Dick,” said Dolly. “You can talk slower ’n I can.”

“Well,” said Dick, “we thought it would be fun to have a party of about a dozen boys and girls, but have it for Lady Eliza’s party, – just for fun, you know.”

“And what’s this about bears?”

“Yes; have each boy and girl bring a doll or a bear, or a hobby horse or a Jack-in-the-box, or anything like that, so it will be Eliza’s party too.”

“Oh, I begin to see,” said Aunt Rachel. “I like the party idea; I’ve been thinking you children might have a little party. But the Eliza part of it is crazy.”

“Oh, no, it isn’t, Auntie,” said Dolly, who was patting her aunt on both cheeks as she talked. “You see, all the boys and girls love Lady Eliza ’most as much as we do. And they’d be glad to have it be her party, too.”

“Well, we’ll have to talk it over, and see about it,” said Miss Rachel; “but now it’s time for you to run and get ready for tea.”

“All right, Auntie. But do decide soon, for Eliza is so impatient to know.”

“Tell her she’ll have to wait, Dolly. But I’ll let her know by to-morrow, if that will do.”

“Yes, Auntie, that will do, I’m sure;” and with a final pat and a kiss, Dolly skipped away.

CHAPTER XIX

THE BIG CHIEF

After further discussion, and some coaxing on the part of the twins, Miss Rachel decided that the party, though of course for Dick and Dolly, might be nominally for Lady Eliza. And so they made up an invitation like this, and Miss Abbie wrote them in her neat hand:

“Aren’t they the greatest ever!” exclaimed Dick, dancing about the table where Aunt Abbie was writing the notes.

“I doubt if those who are invited will know what that last clause means,” said Aunt Abbie.

“Oh, yes, they will, for we’ll tell them,” said Dolly. “Of course we’ll see them all between now and the party. There’s a whole week, you know. I’ll tell every one to bring a doll or something for Eliza’s part of the party. And she must have a new dress, auntie.”

“Yes; something gay and festive, of course. What would you like?”

“Pink tarlatan,” said Dolly, promptly. “With lots of ruffles, and a lace bertha, and a pink sash, and let her wear my pink coral beads. Oh, Auntie! won’t she look just sweet!”

“And flowers in her hair,” chimed in Dick; “and a big, big bouquet, in her hand. Whew! She’ll be a stunner!”

As tarlatan was an inexpensive material, and easy to make up, Aunt Abbie humoured Dolly’s whim, and Lady Eliza had a beautiful new frock for the occasion.

Dolly herself picked out just the right shade of watermelon pink, and she helped a little, too, gathering flounces, and running up breadths, but Aunt Abbie made most of the pretty gown, and it didn’t take very long either.

It was to be worn over one of Aunt Abbie’s own lace-trimmed petticoats, and two whole days before the party, Eliza was dressed and set away in the guest room to await the hour.

“I believe I’ll send an invitation to Aunt Nine,” said Dolly, as they were making out the list of those who were to be invited. “I don’t s’pose she could come, but I think it would be nice to ask her, don’t you, Aunt Rachel?”

“Why, yes, dear; send one, if you like. Though, as you say, of course she won’t come, yet I think she’ll appreciate your thought of her.”

So one invitation was sent to Miss Penninah Dana, and twelve more were sent to boys and girls in Heatherton.

Every one of the dozen accepted, and after conversation on the subject with Dick and Dolly, they quite understood about the extra guests they were to bring.

But they were very secret about them.

“I won’t tell you,” said Jack Fuller, giggling, “but I’m going to bring the funniest person you ever saw! Oh, I know Lady Eliza will be pleased!”

And Pinkie declared that her guest would be the “belle of the ball.”

All these secrets greatly whetted the twins’ curiosity, and they could think of nothing but the coming party. A few days before the event they received a letter from Aunt Penninah, expressing her regret that she could not be with them. In it was also a letter addressed to Lady Eliza Dusenbury. Chuckling with glee, the twins tore it open and read:

“Lady Eliza Dusenbury:

“Most charming and beautiful lady, I salute you. To your party I come, and there with you at Dana Dene will I ever after remain. As your friend and protector I will stand ever by your side. Unless, however, you should attack me with a carving knife (as is sometimes your playful habit), in which case, I will run away and never return. Expect me on Thursday, by express. Your true friend,

“Oh,” cried Dick, “it’s an Indian doll! Saskatchewan is an Indian name, you know. Won’t it be fun?”

“Yes,” cried his twin. “And do you suppose Aunt Nine dressed it herself, in wigwam and feathers?”

“Ho, ho! Dolly. You mean wampum, not wigwam!”

“Well, it’s all the same; I don’t care. Oh, I wish Saskatchewan would come. I’m crazy to see him!”

“So’m I. Do you s’pose the box’ll come addressed to Lady Eliza Dusenbury, Dana Dene?”

“No, I guess it’ll be addressed to Aunt Rachel, or maybe to us. What does Dene mean, auntie?”

“Dene?”

“Yes, Dana Dene, you know?”

“Why, Dana Dene is the name of our place, you know. Not only the house, but the whole estate.”

“Yes’m; I know it. But what does Dene mean? Just as a word?”

“Oh, well, it doesn’t mean anything nowadays, just as a word. But in old times, long ago, it meant den or cave.”

“Well, this house isn’t a cave.”

“No,” said Miss Rachel, laughing. “We’re not cave-dwellers. But long ago, there was another house where this stands now. You know, this estate has been in our family for many generations.”

“And was the other house a cave?” asked Dick, with vague visions of primitive ancestors floating through his mind.

“No, of course not! The name cave came from the fact that there was a deep den or cave somewhere on the place.”