Dorothy Dainty at the Mountains Part 24

"You had a funny caller while you were out driving," she said, with a giggle, "and she was so very fashionable that she left these cards. She told me to tell you that _Miss_ Corryville had called."

"It was Arabella," said Nancy.

"Did she truly say '_Miss_?'" Dorothy asked.

"Well, didn't I _say_ so?" Floretta asked rudely; "and I told her to tell her Aunt Matilda that she talked with _Miss_ Paxton, and she said she would. She waited a long time for you to come home, because she said she meant to stay to dinner with you. Say! She had on a calico dress!

Wouldn't she have looked gay?"

"It isn't very kind to laugh at any one's clothes," said Dorothy, "and it's not very nice to laugh at other people's friends."

"Pooh!" cried Floretta, "I shall laugh at whoever I please," and she turned and ran up to her room.

But she had laughed once too often! During the ride, Mrs. Fenton had spoken of Floretta's rude ways, and of the day when, upon following Nancy to the dining-room, she had caught the provoking child in the act of mimicking her.

"Your little Nancy was grieved and distressed because she knew that I saw it. What a difference there is in children! The Paxton child is disgusting, while Nancy, who, I have heard, was a little waif, is as gentle as Dorothy, who was born the little daughter of a fine, old family."

Aunt Charlotte and Mrs. Dainty had told Mrs. Fenton something of Nancy's life, and noticed how deeply interested she seemed to be.

Mrs. Paxton had realized that ever since the day that Floretta had told of being caught mimicking Mrs. Fenton for the amus.e.m.e.nt of the waitresses and maids, Mrs. Fenton had shunned them. She had made desperate efforts to win Mrs. Fenton's friendship, but never very successfully, as she found that her little daughter's silly act had rendered any intimacy quite impossible.

A few days after the ride, Mrs. Fenton did not appear at lunch, or at dinner, and when Mrs. Paxton, with elaborate interest, inquired for her, she learned that the lady had left very early that morning, before any guests were on the piazza to see her depart.

It certainly did seem odd that she should have left, without a word to those whom she had known, but Mrs. Dainty, with her customary good taste, made no comment, and Aunt Charlotte Grayson was equally silent.

Mrs. Paxton did just as one might have expected. She expressed, in a very loud voice, her disgust at being thus pointedly slighted, for so she chose to feel.

"After all my friendliness, I can't see how she could leave the Cleverton without so much as a word to me. Why, I felt almost like a relative, as my name was Fenton before I married!"

"I guess Mrs. Fenton didn't have what you might call a family feeling,"

said old Mr. Cunningham, which so angered Mrs. Paxton that she politely turned her back.

Two letters arrived at the Cleverton that afternoon, and it would be difficult to say which caused the greater surprise.

Mrs. Paxton told the contents of hers to all who would listen, and there were enough who were curious, to make a good audience.

"TO MRS. CLARA FENTON PAXTON:" it began, refraining from any endearing terms.

"I knew, before I met you, that you and your small daughter were related to my husband, and also knew that he entertained no admiration for you.

He left his entire estate to me, and as you were but a distant relative, you could expect no inheritance. However, with a determination to deal fairly with all my kin (I have but three such), I came to the Cleverton to see you and your little daughter, intending, if she proved sweet-tempered and attractive, to will my property to her. She is the only one of the three relatives who bears my husband's name.

"I do not wish to be harsh, but I am forced to admit that I find her to be bold, naturally unkind, and wholly lacking in the grace and courtesy which most children possess, either by training or inheritance.

"I, therefore, have made my will in favor of Nancy Ferris, once a little waif, now a sweet, gentle, and attractive child, whose little acts of courtesy and kindness are fully appreciated by

"Her friend, "CECILIA CULLEN FENTON."

"A most singular woman, to leave her property to a waif, a child of the theatre, and not bequeath so much as a penny to my Floretta, whom _any_ one could see is an aristocrat," said Mrs. Paxton.

"Mrs. Fenton, or anybody else, would need some rather strong gla.s.ses to see _that_!" muttered Mr. Cunningham.

He was a testy old fellow, and he, like other guests of the hotel, had become exceedingly tired of Mrs. Paxton and her unlovely child.

The other letter gave surprise and delight to the two who had shared in the care and training of little Nancy.

"TO MRS. RUDOLPH DAINTY, AND TO MRS. CHARLOTTE GRAYSON,

"DEAR FRIENDS:--" was its greeting, and then followed the story of the writer's visit to the Cleverton, and the statement that her few relatives were too distant to have any valid claim to her estate.

"I was greatly displeased with the two of my kin whom I came to observe, and I will not dwell upon that, but, instead, will take this time to say that Dorothy Dainty and Nancy Ferris, are the two dearest children that it has been my pleasure to know.

"Dorothy's life has been sunny, and Nancy's story, as you told it to me, appealed to me, and I looked with even greater interest at the child who, under your loving care, had blossomed like a lovely flower.

"Dorothy has her parents, and will inherit a fortune. Nancy has no parents, and I know, will be kindly cared for by you, but that fact will not deter me from making a bequest that gives me greatest pleasure.

"I shall leave all of my estate to Nancy Ferris, and I remind her, in some little verses that I enclose, how deeply I have appreciated her many little kindnesses.

TO NANCY

"Dear little girl, I know that you will daily Do loving acts of kindness, and of cheer, Thus urging life to sing its song more gaily And making friendship lasting and more dear.

"I felt your charm, dear child, I saw how sweetly You gave your kindness, with no thought of gain.

I give you a reward, and how completely I joy in giving, words cannot explain."

CHAPTER XII

A SERENADE

JACK TIVERTON stood in the lower hall one morning, and appeared as if waiting for some one. In his hand was a short switch that he had cut from a shrub that grew beside the driveway. Often he looked up the staircase, and then, as no one appeared, he would continue to strike at the flies that flew past the doorway.

At last he heard merry voices upon the landing, and then Dorothy and Nancy came hurrying down the stairs.

"Good morning!" they called, but Jack, in his eagerness to ask questions, forgot to return their greeting.

"Say!" he cried, "do you know that Mrs. Paxton and Floretta left this morning before breakfast?"

No, the little girls did not know that.

"Well, they have. I saw them go, and I'm glad. Floretta was fun to play with, but she wasn't fair. She'd get me to do things, and then if we got caught, she'd always say I planned it," said Jack.

Dorothy tried to think of something kind to say of Floretta, but she knew that what Jack said was true. Floretta truly was not in the habit of playing "fair."

"Her mamma said something queer just as she was going off. She was talking to a lady, I don't know what her name is, and Mrs. Paxton said:

"'Well, Dorothy Dainty has always seemed to be fond of Nancy, but now that Nancy is to have a _fortune_, sh.e.l.l love her a deal more than she ever did before.'"