Dorothy's Travels Part 1

Dorothy's Travels.

by Evelyn Raymond.

CHAPTER I

SAILING DOWN THE HUDSON

"All aboard--what's goin'! All ash.o.r.e--what ain't!"

The stentorian shout of the colored steward, so close to Dorothy's ear, made her jump aside with a little scream. Then as she saw that the boat hands were about to draw the gang plank back to the steamer's deck, she gave another little cry and fairly pushed Alfaretta toward it.

"Never mind hugging me now, girlie, you must go or you'll be left!"

But the la.s.sie from the mountain only smiled and answered:

"I don't mind if I am. Look a-here!" and with that she pulled a shabby purse from the front of her blouse and triumphantly displayed its contents.

"Oh! Alfy! How'll you ever get back?"

"Easy as preachin'. I--"

But Dorothy had no further time to waste in argument. Here were Jim Barlow and Monty Stark shaking either hand and bidding a hasty good-by, while Molly Breckenridge was fairly dancing up and down in her anxiety lest the lads should also be left on board, as Alfaretta was likely to be.

But they were not. Another second they had bounded down the stairs from the saloon to the lower deck, a workman had obligingly caught Monty by his coat collar and laughingly flung him over the plank to the dock beyond, while Jim's long legs strode after and made their last leap across a little chasm of water.

"Good-by, good-by, good-by!"

Handkerchiefs waved, kisses were tossed across the widening water, the bell rang, the whistle tooted, and Dorothy's travels had begun. Then as the group of schoolmates watching this departure from the sh.o.r.e grew more indistinct she turned upon her old mountain friend with the astonished question:

"But Alfaretta! Whatever made you do this? What will become of you, alone in that great city of New York?"

"I didn't say anything about Ne' York, did I? Should think you'd be glad to have me go along with you a little bit o' way. Course, I shall get off the boat when it stops to Cornwall landing. And I thought--I thought--Seems if I _couldn't_ have you go so far away, Dolly. It's terrible lonesome up-mounting now-a-days. And I--I don't see why some folks has everything and some hasn't nothin'!"

There was more grief than grammar in this speech and a few tears sprang to the girl's eyes. But Alfy boasted that she was not a "crier" and as she heard the stewardess announcing: "Tickets, ladies and gentlemen,"

she dashed the moisture away and stared at the woman.

After her usual custom, "f.a.n.n.y" was collecting money from the various pa.s.sengers and would obligingly procure their tickets for those not already provided. As she made her way through the throng, which on that summer morning crowded the upper deck of the pretty "Mary Powell," the three young friends watched her with surprised interest.

Apparently she took no note of the amount anybody gave her, carrying bills of all dimensions between her fingers and piles of specie on her broad palm.

"How can she tell how much she's taken from anybody? How can she give them their right change?" wondered Dorothy.

"I give it up! She must be a deal better at arithmetic than I am. I should make the mixedest mess of that business;" answered Molly, equally curious.

"Yet you will see that she makes no mistakes. I've been traveling up and down the river on this same boat for many years and I've given her all sorts of sums, at times, on purpose to try her. But her memory never fails," said Miss Greatorex who was in charge of the party. She sat quite calmly with the amount of three fares in her hand but with a most forbidding gaze at Alfaretta.

Who that young person was or why she had thrust herself into their company she did not understand. She had herself but known of this trip on the day before, when Miss Penelope Rhinelander had been obliged to give it up, on account of the extreme illness of a near relative.

However, here she was with her two pupils, whom she taught at the Rhinelander Academy, bound for a summer's outing in--to her and them--unknown lands. Also, as there may be some who have not hitherto followed the fortunes of Dorothy, it may be well to explain that she was a foundling, left upon the doorstep of a man and wife, in a quiet street in Baltimore. That he had lost his health and his position as a letter-carrier in that city and had removed to his wife's small farm in the Hudson Highlands. That among their friends there was somebody who had taken an interest in the orphan girl and had burdened himself--or herself--with the charge of her education. That she had pa.s.sed the last school year at the Academy and had been in some most exciting episodes detailed in "Dorothy's Schooling;" and that now, at the beginning of the long vacation, she was traveling with her closest school friend and a teacher, whose life she had been the means of saving at the time of the Academy fire, toward New York; and from thence to Nova Scotia--there to grow strong for another year of study.

Alfaretta Babc.o.c.k's home was near to her home upon the mountain; and though unlike, there was a sincere affection between this untaught country girl and the dainty Dorothy, and Alfy had begged a ride in a neighbor's wagon going to Newburgh, that she might bid her friend good by and watch her set sail on what seemed must be the most wonderful of journeys.

She was to have returned home as she had come; but when the steamer was on the point of leaving an impulse had seized her to travel thus herself, if only for the brief distance between this landing and the one nearer her own home. She had a few cents in her purse and hoped they would be enough to pay her fare; and now when they were already moving down the stream and her familiar mountain-top came into view, she made a wild dart toward the stewardess, shouting:

"Ma'am, please, ma'am, take mine! I've got to get off the next place and--and--I mustn't be left!"

f.a.n.n.y picked up the camp-chair Alfy had stumbled over, remarked in a soothing voice, "Plenty of time, little gal, oceans of time, oceans of time," and glanced at the money so suddenly thrust into her already crowded palm.

"Four cents, little gal? Hardly enough. Fifteen is the regular fare. All you got, sissy? Look and see."

The tone was kind but the statement sounded like a knell in poor Alfaretta's ears. Thousands of times she had watched the many boats pa.s.s up and down the river, but only once had she been upon any and that was a row-boat. It had been the dream of her life to voyage, as she was doing now, far and away beyond those Highlands, that seemed to meet and clasp hands across the mighty stream, and see the wonderful world that lay beyond. For the boats always disappeared around that projecting point of rock and forest, and so she knew that the mountains did not meet but merely seemed so to do. Well, of course, she wasn't to find out about them to-day. She knew that quite well, because her own landing was on this side the "Point" and she could go no further. Indeed, could she now go even so far?

"Fifteen cents! My heart!--I--I--What can I do? Will the captain drop me--in the--river? Will--"

The stewardess was very busy. People were watching her a little anxiously because of her indifferent handling of her money and the tickets she had not hurried to bring; and the sudden terrified clutch at her skirts which Alfy gave set her tripping among the crowded chairs and made her answer, crossly:

"For goodness sake, girl, keep out from under foot! If you haven't the money go to your friends and get it!"

"Friends! I haven't got any!" cried Alfaretta, and flung her skirt over her face and herself down upon the nearest seat.

From their own place Molly and Dolly watched this little by-play for a moment, then darted forward themselves to see what was the matter.

"Why, Alfy dear, what's happened? Won't the woman get your ticket for you? Never mind. I'll ask her. Maybe she will for me."

"You needn't, Dolly girl! There ain't enough and I'm afraid they'll drop me off into the water! She--she--"

"Alfy! How silly! n.o.body would do such a thing. It would be murder. But you shouldn't have come unless you had the money and I'll go ask Miss Greatorex for some. She has our purses in her satchel, taking care of them for us. Wait a minute. You stay with her, Molly, while I go get it.

How much, Alfy?"

The girl began to count upon her fingers:

"Four--that's what I have and it was meant for candy for the children--five, six--How many more'n four does it take to make fifteen I wonder? I'm so scared I can't think. And I wish, I--wish--to--goodness--knows I'd ha' said good-by back there to the dock and not let myself get carried off down river to n.o.body knows where. If they da.s.sent to drop me off the boat they might keep me here till I paid--"

"Alfaretta Babc.o.c.k! I certainly am ashamed of you. That's a hard thing to say, just at parting, but it's the truth. The idea! First you fancy a decent human being will drown you because you haven't a little money, and then you can't reckon fifteen! What would dear Mr. Seth say, after teaching you so faithfully? Never mind. Don't act so foolish any more and I'll go get the money."

This was not so easy as she fancied. The boat was already nearing the next landing where Alfaretta must go ash.o.r.e, or be carried on to a much greater distance from her home, but it seemed difficult to make Miss Greatorex understand what was wanted and why. The poor lady's deafness had increased since her fright and exposure at the time of the fire and, now that she had been put into a position of greater trust than ever before, her sense of responsibility weighed heavily upon her. At parting, her princ.i.p.al, Miss Rhinelander, had enjoined:

"Take particular care of the girls' finances, Cousin Isobel. It is important that they should learn to be wise in their small expenditures so that they may be equally prudent when they come to have the handling of larger sums--if that should ever be. Make them give a strict account of everything and check any foolishness at the beginning."

The subordinate promised. She was a "poor relation" and knew that she was an unpopular teacher with many of the pupils of the fine school, though she had modified her sternness altogether in the case of Dorothy who had saved her from the fire. But the mandate of her superior was fresh in her mind. She had been touched by the rarely familiar "Cousin Isobel," and determined to do her duty to the utmost. Yet here was Dorothy already screaming into her deafest ear:

"My purse, please, Miss Greatorex! I want some money right away! Quick, quick, please, or it'll be too late!"

The girl's voice was so highly pitched that people around began to stare and some of them to smile. Like most afflicted persons the lady was sensitive to the observation of others and now held up her hand in protest against the attention they were attracting.

"Softly, Dorothy. Better write what you wish if you cannot speak more distinctly;" and a small pad with pencil was extended.