Dorothy Dale's Great Secret Part 23

"Yes," answered Dorothy abstractedly, taking the card in her hand. It was the picture of a girl in chorus costume, and was enscribed with an appropriate verse.

"Don't you see," explained Nat, "they've got everything down to a post-card basis now. That one is intended to be used in place of making a party call when a gentleman has blown a girl to a theatrical good time.

She just sends this card back and that suffices for formal thanks.

"Of course it might not just suit our set," he conceded, "but for those in the post-card clientele it's a cinch, as the poet says. I tell you after a while we will be able to carry on all our business correspondence with picture postals and not be under the necessity of writing a word.

Great scheme, Nat (patting himself on the left shoulder with his right hand), get a patent on your new post-card."

They had now reached the hotel. The veranda was deserted as the hour for dinner was almost at hand and the guests were dressing. Nat left Dorothy at the elevator, with a warning to be ready early in the morning. Then he hurried to where he and Ned were staying.

CHAPTER XXI ADRIFT IN A STRANGE CITY

In spite of Dorothy's courage, and her efforts to keep each of her troubles apart, that she might meet and cope with them singly, the time had now come when she found herself sorely puzzled.

How would she be able to reach Rochester-to leave her cousins and proceed alone in her search for Tavia?

The morning of departure dawned bright and clear, conditions most necessary for a pleasant automobile trip, and when the Markin family waved an affectionate adieu, the Fire Bird puffed away from in front of the hotel, Rose-Mary throwing innumerable kisses to Dorothy. Suddenly, as they swung into the street, Dorothy turned to Ned and asked:

"Ned, could you let me go part of the way home, by train? I did not want to mention it at the hotel as Mrs. Markin would be sure to worry, but I would so like to return by rail. You could just leave me at the depot and then-you might stop for me at-did you say you were going through Rochester on your way back?"

Ned and Nat gazed at their cousin in surprise. What could she mean to ask to leave them and go to North Birchland alone?

"I know you think it strange," she hastened to add, "but really you know, I am able to travel alone that short distance. You know I came from Glenwood alone."

"Oh, yes, I know," replied Nat, "but this time mother put you in our charge and these are big cities around here."

"But if the auto makes you feel ill," put in Nat, "of course no one could object to you going by train."

"I would so much rather," declared Dorothy, taking advantage of Nat's ready excuse for her. "I have found that there is a train at eight-thirty. Then, if you pa.s.s through Rochester, you could meet me there. I can go to some young women's club and wait if I do not meet you exactly on time at the station."

This was a brave stroke, and Dorothy felt that she would not be equal to further argument should the boys offer much more opposition.

"You mean for us to leave you here at the Buffalo depot?" asked Ned in a dazed sort of way.

"Yes, I have plenty of money with me, and I know perfectly well how to travel alone."

"But you may have to change cars, and suppose you were to be left alone in Rochester in case we had a breakdown and couldn't pick you up?"

"It wouldn't be any worse staying in Rochester than it would in some place near where you happened to have the accident. I hope you don't have any. But I have told you what I would do in case you didn't call for me.

I'd stay at some girls' club. There are plenty of them in Rochester I've read."

"Well," admitted Ned. "I suppose you ought to know what you want to do."

"There's the station," exclaimed Nat. "What time did you say the train left?"

"Eight-thirty," replied Dorothy. "We have plenty of time."

But when she realized that she was to be left alone, to go in a train to that strange, big city, she felt as if she must cry out against the circ.u.mstances that forced her to all this trouble. Why should she deceive her two kind cousins, and desert them to take that risky journey alone?

And she did believe her prospective trip dangerous in spite of her a.s.sertions to the contrary. It was very different to making the journey to Glenwood when she had had Tavia with her.

Besides, going into the New England mountains was along a quiet way, while this trip-she dared not trust herself to think further. She must decide at once, and she must go-alone to look for Tavia.

"I'll get you a Pullman ticket," Ned said rather gloomily, as the auto dashed up to the station, "but I do wish, Doro, that you would come on with us. Of course, in the parlor car you will be quite safe, and can rest better than in the Fire Bird. I'll see the porter and have him look after you."

"Thank you, Ned," Dorothy managed to reply, and, but for his haste to make arrangements for her comfort, the youth would have seen tears in his cousin's eyes, and noticed that her hands trembled as Nat helped her out of the machine to the station platform.

"I think, after all, it will be better for you to go straight on to North Birchland," she said, trying to make her voice sound easy and natural, but conscious that her tones were rather unsteady. She was now putting into operation the second part of her plan. "It might be risky to attempt to pick me up in Rochester. I might miss you or you might miss me, whereas if we both follow out our route separately we will be sure to get to the Cedars in safety and without any delay."

"Well, since you have decided to desert us, and travel by train, leaving the poor old Fire Bird to struggle along as best it can without a lady pa.s.senger, perhaps it will be best," Nat agreed, in a dazed sort of way.

He seemed for a time quite unlike Nat White-quite different from the youth who was always ready to take up the weak end of an argument and carry it to the strongest point of conclusion. Here he was letting his favorite cousin start away alone on a train to a strange big city, when she had been entrusted to his care.

"Here you are, Doro," called Ned, coming from the depot where he had hurried as soon as the auto stopped. "Take this," and he thrust some bills into her hands, as well as her tickets. "And do, above everything else, be careful. I've seen the porter, and tipped him so he will look after you. Now, you'd better get in and we'll leave you, as we want to make good time. Good-bye," and he stooped to kiss the pale-faced girl who was now too overcome with emotion to trust her own voice.

Nat put his arm affectionately around her and he, too, gave her a farewell kiss. They walked with her to the waiting train, and then the porter, in his blue uniform, adorned with numerous bra.s.s b.u.t.tons, helped her aboard the car "Seneca."

CHAPTER XXII IN DIRE DISTRESS

Dorothy had traveled in parlor cars before but had never ridden in a sleeper, which was the style of coach she now found herself in. The train was a through one from the west and, as the regular parlor cars were full Ned had to get a ticket in the sleeper which, by day, is much the same as a parlor car.

As the porter set her valise down and arranged a seat for her near the ladies' retiring room Dorothy's heart beat fast, and, though the surroundings were new and novel to her she took no interest in them. But as the train whistled off, and the other pa.s.sengers began moving about, Dorothy lifted her head and glanced around.

For a moment she felt that some mistake had been made. Surely this was no train for ladies, for not a woman was in sight, instead the entire car seemed filled with men in various stages of incomplete toilets. Some were adjusting their neckties as they walked through the aisle, others were fastening shoe laces, and a few buckling their belts or slipping on their coats.

Then she noticed, for the first time, that the car was a sleeper, for the interior was so dark because of the train shed when she entered that she could not tell what it was. She saw the berths on both sides, with heavy curtains lining the aisle. Only one or two beds had been shut up and turned into seats like the one she was occupying.

Dorothy was annoyed. Was she to make her lonely trip in company with a car full of men? She had expected, when she planned her journey, that there would be other girls and ladies in the coach in which she was to travel, and that she might appeal to them in case of need. But a whole car full of men!

She looked about for the little electric call b.u.t.ton, and, finding it in the cas.e.m.e.nt at the side of the window, pressed it vigorously. It was some time before the porter responded as, all along his route, the omnipresent men claimed his attention for various services. But finally he reached the end of the car where the girl in the blue sailor suit sat up very prim and stiff, waiting for him.

"Is this-er-a ladies' car?" she asked timidly.

"A ladies' car? Oh, yes, miss. This is all right. This is the car for Rochester."

"But I-never was in a car like-like this before," Dorothy objected, glancing about at the men who were still struggling in the aisles with various refractory articles of clothing.

For a moment the porter seemed puzzled. Then, all at once, he understood Dorothy's objection.

"Oh, them's only the gentlemen gettin' ready to leave, miss. They'll all be out soon, and you'll have more room. Anything I can do for you, miss?"

"No," and Dorothy just checked herself from adding "thank you," which she felt would not be quite proper, and would show that she was unused to the attention of a porter. Then the colored attendant made his way down the aisle, while the only girl in the car held her face close against the window pane and fell to thinking of the task that lay before her.

She was not now troubled about the car and the occupants. If it was all right, and she would be brought safely to Rochester in it, that was all she had to consider. Of course it would have been less lonely to have had the usual day coach pa.s.sengers with her, but she thought Ned must have selected this car and she felt he knew best. Then, too, the porter had said the men were rapidly leaving their berths and as soon as they did so the colored man made the folding beds into broad velvet seats, similar to the one occupied by Dorothy.