The Story of the Big Front Door Part 34

"I don't approve of this move at all," Mrs. Hazeltine announced; "Mrs.

Warner must have lost her mind to consent."

"It is a great deal nicer than you imagine, Aunt Marcia," urged Bess.

"Dora doesn't care about being fashionable, and you can have more fun if you don't," observed Louise.

"You seem to care for nothing but fun," said her aunt, with dignity.

"At any rate we all admire Dora's energy and good sense, and would like to do something to help her," said Mr. Frank Hazeltine.

So they put their heads together and made their plans.

It was arranged that Mrs. Warner should come to her new quarters on Sat.u.r.day morning, and Dora lingered long on Friday afternoon putting a few last touches here and there, arranging her little sideboard with some pretty gla.s.s and china, relics of her mother's early housekeeping, till everything was in dainty order.

"I do hope Mamma will think it pleasant," she said to Louise, who was helping.

"She will, I'm sure," Louise answered, looking around the room, which was indeed very attractive with the afternoon sunshine streaming in through the windows draped in their pretty muslin curtains.

"Everything is so sweet and cosey I almost envy you," she added, dusting the top of the clock with a tiny feather duster.

"Louise Hazeltine, how could you envy anybody?" Dora exclaimed. "There are two things I ought to have, and mean to sometime," she went on, "and they are some plants and a canary."

Louise looked out of the window to hide a smile.

One more peep had to be taken at the other room, where two snowy beds looked restful and inviting; then she locked the doors, leaving the key with Mrs. Smith that the fires might be made in the morning.

"I hope you will like it, Mamma," were her last words that night and her first thought next morning.

Mr. Hazeltine sent his carriage for Mrs. Warner, and short as the drive was it seemed tiresomely long to Dora.

"I am glad it is pleasant so that the sunshine will be in your windows; it is always there by eleven o'clock," she said.

Mrs. Smith was at the door to welcome them, with her small son Tommy to carry up any bundles.

"I declare," she remarked to her husband, "it doesn't look right for a woman that has a daughter like Miss Dora to be so terrible down-hearted."

In her eagerness to see how her mother was pleased, Dora hardly noticed anything herself when she opened the door.

A more hopelessly gloomy person than Mrs. Warner could not have failed to be impressed with the sweet, cheerful comfort which pervaded the room. The sunshine from the south windows lay in two great patches on the quiet carpet, and glistened in a corner of something that did not look quite familiar; the fire burned briskly, doing its best to add to the cheeriness.

"My dear daughter, how could you do all this?" she asked, her face brightening.

"Do you like it? I am so glad!" Then Dora began to look about in some bewilderment; something had certainly happened to the room since yesterday. In the corner by the fireplace was the dearest mahogany desk, and on it a card which read, "For a brave little girl, from Uncle William." Glancing up, her eyes rested on the sweet face of a Madonna, which she guessed at once came from Aunt Zelie.

"How good they are to me!'" she exclaimed, feeling almost like crying; but just then the canary in the window burst into a song, thus calling attention to himself and to the pot of ivy from Miss Brown.

It was a morning of surprises. While her mother sat in her easy-chair, with a more cheerful face than she had worn for years, Dora went about finding every now and then something new. There were hyacinths from Helen and Carie, Elsie's pincushion on the bureau, a table cover from Constance, and on the sideboard a cunning teapot, with this touching verse tied on the handle:

"Whene'er a cup of tea you drink, Of me I hope you'll kindly think.

To make the memory more complete, Be sure to take it very sweet."

This effusion did not need Carl's initials to tell her where it came from. The last thing to be discovered was a beautiful chair to match the desk, from Carl's father.

Late in the afternoon a happy face looked in on Aunt Zelie, and a merry voice exclaimed, "It is going to be a success; and to-day has been better than Christmas!"

CHAPTER XXII.

UNCLE WILLIAM IS SURPRISED.

Dora's housekeeping seemed to thrive from the first. Her mother grew more cheerful and a little stronger, and she herself was rosy and happy. It was so pleasant to come home every day after school and find f.a.n.n.y, their small maid, who came each morning and stayed till after lunch, setting their own little table. And then, what a pleasure to study at her beautiful desk!

"It is lovely, if it is over a confectionery, isn't it, Mamma?" she would say.

It was her great pleasure to keep this small domain in the daintiest order, and Sat.u.r.day morning was sure to find her busy with her duster.

On this particular morning, as she was shaking it out of the window, she saw Bess and Louise coming in.

"If you aren't busy, Dora, we want to talk to you about something."

began the last-named person before she was fairly in the room.

"I am just through, and delighted to see you," she said hospitably.

"It is about the afghan," Bess explained. "We can finish it easily this afternoon, and the twentieth is Uncle William's birthday; don't you think it would be best to give it to him then?"

"We asked the boys about the party and they are in favor of it, and Aunt Zelie says we can have it. Now what kind of a party shall it be?

We want suggestions," said Louise, folding her hands in her lap, and leaning back as if she had only to ask.

"Why not have a surprise party?--ask him to dinner as if it were nothing special, you know."

"The very thing!" they both exclaimed.

"Why didn't we think of surprising the dear old duck, who is always surprising us?" Louise added.

Bess shook her head at her sister. "That is not a becoming way in which to speak of your uncle. But that is a good idea, Dora; you are a very bright girl."

"Thank you, I am glad I am satisfactory. Do you need any more suggestions?"

"It must be a real party; we must trim the house and have Carl present the slumber robe; and do you think we could have a cake with candles?

Forty-eight would be a good many."

"Four dozen," said Dora, as Louise paused for breath. "Why don't you leave the decorations to the boys? We have done our share in making the afghan."

"Another brilliant idea. We will," said Bess.

They discussed it again over their work that afternoon, and Constance and Elsie gave their entire approval to the plan.