Dorothy Dale in the City Part 18

"Now for your pudding," announced Dorothy, who came from the kitchenette with three large dishes of the Brown Betty on a small tray.

"Um-m-m!" breathed the boys, drawing deep breaths so as to fully inhale the delicious aroma.

"What's that?" asked Ned, as the outside door bell rang vigorously.

In reply Martha announced that the janitor wanted to know if anyone had tied a kite to the lobby rail.

"The janitor!" exclaimed both small boys in one breath. Then, without further warning, they simultaneously ducked under the table.

CHAPTER XIII THE SHOPPING TOUR

"I guess I'll wear my skating cap, the wind blows so on top of those 'buses," remarked Tavia, as she and Dorothy prepared to go downtown to see the shops. It was their second day in New York.

"And I'll wear my fur cap," Dorothy announced, "as that sticks on so well. It is windy to-day."

"Wasn't it too funny about the little boys? I do believe if that janitor had caught them he would have punished them somehow. The idea of their kite dropping around the neck of the old gentleman on the next floor! I should have given anything to see the fun," and Tavia laughed at the thought.

"The poor old gentleman," Dorothy reflected. "To think he was not safe taking the air on his own balcony. I was afraid that Ned would be blamed.

Then our apartment would be marked as something dangerous. But Aunt Winnie fixed it all right. Janitors love small change."

"Most people do," Tavia agreed. "I hope we find things cheap in New York.

I do want so many odds and ends."

"It will be quite an experience for us to go all alone," Dorothy said.

"We will have to be careful not to-break any laws."

"Or any bric-a-brac," added Tavia. "Some of those men we saw coming up looked to me like statues. I wonder anyone could enjoy life and be so stiff and statuesque."

"We will see some strange things, I am sure," Dorothy said. "I'm ready.

Wait. I guess I'll take my handbag. We may want to carry some little things home."

"And I'll take your silk bag if you don't mind," Tavia spoke. "I did not bring any along."

So, after accepting all sorts of warnings from Ned and Mrs. White, each declaring that young girls had to be very well behaved, and very careful in such a large city, the two companions started off for their first day's shopping.

Climbing up the little winding steps to the top of the Fifth Avenue 'bus Tavia dropped her m.u.f.f. Of course a young fellow, with a fuzzy-wuzzy sort of a hat, caught it-on the hat. Tavia was plainly embarra.s.sed, and Dorothy blushed. But it must be said that the young man with the velvet hat only looked at Tavia once and that was when he handed her m.u.f.f up to her.

On top of the 'bus, away from the crowd (for they were alone up there), Dorothy and Tavia gave in to the laughter that was stifling them. They knew something would happen and it had, promptly.

"Perhaps that is why they wear such broad-brimmed hats," Dorothy remarked, "to catch things."

Soon an elderly woman puffed up the steps. She was so done up in furs she could not get her breath outside of them. Tavia and Dorothy took a double seat nearer the front, to allow the lady room near the steps.

"Oh, my! Thank you," gasped the lady who had a little dog in her m.u.f.f.

"It does do one up so to climb steps!"

The country girls conversed in glances. They had read about dogs on strings, but had never heard of dogs in m.u.f.fs.

"Lucky that m.u.f.f did not drop," Dorothy said, in a whisper. "I fancy the little dog would not like it."

"I wish it had," Tavia confessed. "The idea of a woman, who fairly has to crawl, carrying a dog with her."

Once settled, the woman and the dog no longer interested our young friends. There were the boys on the street corners with their trays of violets; there were the wonderful mansions with so many sets of curtains that one might wonder how daylight ever penetrated; there were the taxicabs floating along like a new species of big bird; then the private auto conveyances-with orchids in hanging gla.s.ses! No wonder that Dorothy and Tavia scarcely spoke a word as they rode along.

There is only one New York. And perhaps the most interesting part of it is that which shows how real people live there.

"I wonder who's cooking there now," misquoted Tavia, as she got a peek into an open door that seemed to lead to nowhere in particular.

"Can you imagine people living in such closed-in quarters?" Dorothy remarked, "I should think they would become-canned."

"They don't live there,-they only sleep there," Tavia disclosed, with a show of pride. "I do not believe a single person along here ever eats a meal in his or her house. They all go out to hotels."

"But they can't take the babies," said Dorothy. "I often wonder what becomes of the babies after dark, when the parks are not so attractive."

"Do you really suppose that people do live in those vaults?" musingly asked Tavia. "I should think they would smother."

"We can't see the back yards," Dorothy suggested.

"Perhaps New York is like ancient Rome-all walls and back yards."

"But the fountains," exclaimed Tavia, "where are they?"

"There are sunken gardens behind those walls, I imagine," explained Dorothy, "and they must be there."

For some moments neither spoke further. The 'bus rattled along and as they neared Thirty-fourth Street stops were made more frequently.

"We will get off at the next corner," Dorothy told Tavia, "I know of one big store up here."

They climbed down the narrow, winding stairs and with a bound were in the midst of the Fifth Avenue shopping crowd.

Dorothy shivered under her furs. "Where," she asked, "do all the flowers come from? No one in the country ever sees flowers in the winter, and here they are blooming like spring time."

"Do you feel peculiar?" demanded Tavia, stopping suddenly.

"Why, no," answered Dorothy innocently; "do you?"

"I feel just as if I needed a-nosegay," said Tavia, laughing slily.

"We're not at all as dashing as we might be!"

They purchased from a thinly-clad little boy two bunches of violets, sweetly scented, daintily ta.s.seled-but made of silk!

"The silkiness accounts for the always fresh and blooming violets,"

Dorothy said ruefully. "Now, we look just like real New Yorkers."