Dorothy's Tour Part 9

Winter has come. Since the expulsion of the King's Son and his sweetheart, the Witch has been burned at the stake for her supposed betrayal of the people to whom she had promised a new ruler. The Fiddler, who has been maimed and imprisoned for defending the outcasts, now lives alone in the Witch's hut, where he is feeding the doves the Goose-Girl has left behind. He is disturbed by the arrival of the Woodcutter and the Broom-maker, with a troop of children who have come to entreat him to come back to h.e.l.labrunn. He refuses. But when one of the children begs him to lead them all in search of the lost King's Son and his bride, he consents. The Woodcutter and the Broom-maker withdraw into the hut, where they discover the poisoned pasty which the Witch had baked.

Hardly have the echoes of a song sung by the Fiddler died away, when the King's Son and the Goose-Girl re-appear, hungry and thirsting and worn out with wandering. They stop to rest and the King's Son knocks at the door of the hut to beg food and shelter. The Woodcutter refuses to give them anything. To comfort her sweetheart, the Goose-Girl pretends she is none the worse for her long travels over hill and dale in the vain effort to discover the King's Son's old home. She sings and dances to him. But she soon grows faint and falls. To save his love from starving, the King's Son then barters his royal crown, which he has found again, for the poisoned pasty. The outcasts eat it and soon after die, fancying themselves happy in a land of love and roses. With her last breath the Goose-Girl braves grim Death who threatens her and sighs "I love thee, dear!"

The Fiddler and the troop of little children then return, only to learn that they have found the outcasts but to lose them. They lay the youthful lovers on a bier and bear them away to bury them on a high hill. And as they go, they sing a last lament for the poor "Kingly Children."

After the opera, Mr. Ludlow invited them to a supper at one of the cafes, but Aunt Betty demurred, as it was quite late, and so they were driven straight home.

"Alfy," said Dorothy, when they had reached their rooms, "you are such a funny girl. You didn't half pay attention to the opera at all. All I saw you doing was looking at the ladies in the boxes."

"I was trying to remember the dress of the lady in that one box, the one that glistened all over with diamonds. I wanted to write and tell Ma Babc.o.c.k just how to make it. It was so stylish, and had such a nice low neck and long train," said Alfy.

"Alfy, are you sure you are not crazy?" laughed Dorothy. "Oh, oh! Just imagine Ma Babc.o.c.k in a dress like that! Oh, dear! It's so funny."

"Why, Dorothy!" angrily added Alfy, "why couldn't ma have a dress like that? And anyway, I couldn't understand a word they were singing. I am going right to bed, I am, so there!"

"Alfy, dear, don't you know that people only wear dresses like that to evening affairs, and, of course, you couldn't understand, it was all in German. Here, kiss me good-night." The girls kissed each other and were soon fast asleep.

CHAPTER VII.

AN EPISODE.

The next morning no one arose very early. They were all quite willing to rest. Jim, first of all, was up and out. He had been working over a list of boarding houses as he had quite decided to take the position, and his salary would not permit him to live in an expensive hotel. He had not been very successful and on returning to the hotel found Aunt Betty reading in their sitting room.

"Aunt Betty," said Jim.

"Yes," answered Aunt Betty, "what is it? Do you want to talk business with me?"

"Yes, business," responded Jim, doubtfully. "I have been out all the morning trying to find a boarding house."

"A boarding house?" echoed Aunt Betty.

"Yes, a boarding house," answered Jim. "You see I have quite decided to take the position. I received a letter from Mr. Ford's secretary saying Mr. Ford is abroad, and not expected back for some time. And if I work there at the Edison, I must live in a boarding house not too far away from there. I didn't have much luck."

"Why not ask Mr. Ludlow? He might know of a place," suggested Aunt Betty. "Or maybe you could see if there is a room at that place where Ruth, Miss Boothington, is staying. You remember her saying that she was tired of boarding house meals, do you not?"

"I never thought of that," added Jim. "Suppose I ask Dorothy where she lives, maybe she knows."

"Yes, call her," replied Aunt Betty.

"Dorothy! Dorothy! Where are you?" called Jim.

"Here, in Alfy's room, I have been writing in my diary," answered the girl. "I will be there in just a minute. Oh, dear," she continued to herself, "I just can't seem to ever write to Frau. Every time I start on that letter someone calls, and then I stop writing, and it is so long before I can get at it again. I have to begin all over."

"Well, young man, what is it this time?" she said, turning to Jim as she entered the room.

"It's just this, Dorothy. You see, I am going to take the position in New York and I must live here," started Jim.

"Ah, Jim, you never told me anything about really taking a position. I just supposed that--well, I don't quite know--but I didn't think you really meant to do it," interrupted Dorothy.

"I do, Dorothy, mean it. And I have made up my mind to take it and work, so hard that some day I can make a man out of myself like Dr.

Sterling and some others I know," replied Jim. "But to get down to the point why we called you, Aunt Betty thought you might help in finding a boarding place for me. You see, I must live here in the city, and it's hard to find a good boarding place. Miss Ruth, last night, said something about her place. Do you know where it is?"

"No, Jim, I can't say that I do, but I heard her say that it was down on lower Fifth avenue--way downtown, she said. I might call up Mr.

Ludlow and find out right now, or you can wait till to-night, for I play at that concert at the Hippodrome this evening, you know."

"Call him up now, dear," suggested Aunt Betty from her corner. "Then you and Jim can take a walk there this afternoon. Alfy and I can find something to amuse ourselves with. We could take one of those stages and ride up Fifth avenue on it. It's a fine ride on a nice day like this."

"Very well," answered Dorothy, immediately going to the telephone, and acting on her aunt's suggestion.

Jim and Aunt Betty sat quietly by till she had finished her conversation at the telephone.

"Mr. Ludlow says that Ruth lives on Fifth avenue, near Washington square, and it's a very large, old-fashioned boarding house run by an elderly southern lady, who, being in very adverse circ.u.mstances, had to take hold and do something. He said that the rooms were fairly large, the meals first rate and the charges moderate, and that we had better see her at once because she has usually a pretty full house,"

added Dorothy.

"Why not start at once, dear," replied Aunt Betty. "Then you can come home and practice this afternoon, and as Alfy and I will be out there will be nothing to distract you."

"Yes, let's go now, Dorothy, if you can spare the time to go with me,"

pleaded Jim. "Where is it near?"

"He says it is near Ninth street," replied Dorothy. "All right, Jim, I will be ready in a few minutes. Oh dear," she sighed to herself, "poor Frau will not get her letter very soon, I guess. Well, I can write this afternoon, after I practice, and I will make the letter extra long so as to make up for the time I have taken to write her."

"Good-bye, Aunt Betty," called Dorothy a short time later.

"Good-bye, Aunt Betty," echoed Jim. "We'll be back soon."

With that the two disappeared and Aunt Betty from her corner sighed as she thought of what a charming pair the pretty Dorothy and the tall youth made.

"Shall we ride?" asked Jim.

"No. Let's walk, it is not far, only a few blocks," said Dorothy.

"That's just what I wanted to do," replied Jim, "only I was most afraid you would not care to. We haven't had a good walk in a long time."

They walked on silently as the streets were so crowded and there was lots to see, and the crossings required much attention, these two not being used to the busy streets of New York, where one has to look in all directions at once and keep moving lively to avoid being run into by the many automobiles or trucks that are hurrying along.

Finally Dorothy, observing the number on the houses, said: "Here we are, this is the house."

Up the steps they ran and Jim gave the old-fashioned bell a vigorous pull. "Ting-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling," vaguely sounded from somewhere within and presently a pleasant faced young girl with white cap and ap.r.o.n and dark dress, said in a low voice, "Whom do you wish to see?"

Jim answered, "Will you tell Miss Boothington that Miss Dorothy Calvert wishes to see her?"

Slowly they followed the neat maid into the old fashioned parlor and waited there for her to take the message to Ruth.

"Oh, Jim," whispered Dorothy, very softly putting her hand on Jim's arm. "Jim, if I were you I should love to stay here. It is more like a home, a real home than any place I have been in, in the big city."