He’s going to chop wood. Monty, will you ride to the village and send that telegram to Mabel Bruce?”
The lad looked up from the foot he had been contemplating and over which Molly and Alfy had been bending in sympathy, to answer by another question:
“See that shoe, Dolly Calvert? Close shave that. Might have been my very flesh itself, and I’d have blood poisoning and an amputation, and then there’d have been telegrams sent – galore! Imagine my mother – if they had been!”
“It wasn’t your flesh, was it?”
“That’s as Yankee as I am. Always answer your own questions when you ask them and save a lot of trouble to the other fellow. No, I wasn’t hurt but I might have been! Since I’m not, I’m at your service, Lady D. Providing you word your own message and give me a decent horse to ride.”
“There are none but ‘decent’ horses in our stable, Master Stark. I shall need Portia myself, or we girls will. You can go ask a groom to saddle one – that he thinks best. I see through you. You’ve just been getting these girls to waste sympathy on you and you shall be punished by our leaving you alone till lunch time. I’ll write the message, of course. I’d be afraid you wouldn’t put enough in. Only – let me think. How much do telegrams cost?”
“Twenty-five cents for ten words,” came the prompt reply.
“But ten would hardly begin to talk! Is telephoning cheaper? You ought to know, being a boy.”
“Long distance telephoning is about as expensive a luxury as one can buy, young lady. But, why hesitate? It won’t take all of that hundred dollars,” he answered, swaggering a trifle over his superior knowledge.
Out it came without pause or pretense, the dark suspicion that had risen in Dorothy’s innocent mind:
“But I haven’t that hundred dollars! It’s gone. It’s —stolen!”
“Dorothy Calvert! How dare you say such a thing?”
It was Molly’s horrified question that broke the long silence which had fallen on the group; and hearing her ask it gave to poor Dorothy the first realization of what an evil thing it was she had voiced.
“I don’t know! Oh! I don’t know! I wish I hadn’t. I didn’t mean to tell, not yet; and I wish, I wish I had kept it to myself!” she cried in keen regret.
For instantly she read in the young faces before her a reflection of her own hard suspicion and loss of faith in others; and something that her beloved Seth Winters had once said came to her mind:
“Evil thoughts are more catching than the measles.”
Seth, that grand old “Learned Blacksmith!” To him she would go, at once, and he would help her in every way. Turning again to her mates she begged:
“Forget that I fancied anybody might have taken it to keep. Of course, nobody would. Let’s hurry in and get Mabel’s invitation off. I think I’ve enough money to pay for a message long enough to explain what I want; and her fare here – well she’ll have to pay that herself or her father will. I’ve asked to have Portia put to the pony cart and we girls will drive around and ask all the others. So glad they live on the mountain where we can get to them quick.”
“Dolly, shall you go to The Towers, to see that Montaigne girl?” asked Alfaretta, rather anxiously.
“Yes, but you needn’t go in if you don’t want to, Alfy dear. I shall stay only just long enough to bid her welcome home and invite her for Saturday.”
“Oh! I shouldn’t mind. I’d just as lief. Fact, I’d admire, only if I put on my best dress to go callin’ in the morning what’ll I have left to wear to the Party? And Ma Babcock says them Montaignes won’t have folks around that ain’t dressed up;” said the girl, so frankly that Molly laughed and Dorothy hastened to assure her:
“That’s a mistake, Alfy, dear, I think. They don’t care about a person’s clothes. It’s what’s inside the clothes that counts with sensible people, such as I believe they are. But, I’ll tell you. It’s not far from The Towers’ gate to the old smithy and I must see Mr. Seth. I must. I’m so thankful that he didn’t leave the mountain, too, with all the other grown-ups. So you can drop me at Helena’s; and then you and Molly can drive around to all the other people we’ve decided to ask and invite them in my stead. You know where all of them live and Molly will go with you.”
“Can Alfy drive – safe?” asked Molly, rather anxiously.
Dolly laughed. “Anybody can drive gentle Portia and Alfy is a mountain girl. But what a funny question for such a fearless rider as you, Molly Breckenridge!”
“Not so funny as you think. It’s one thing to be on the back of a horse you know and quite another to be behind the heels of another that its driver doesn’t know! Never mind, Alfy. I’ll trust you.”
“You can,” Alfaretta complacently assured her; and the morning’s drive proved her right. A happier girl had never lived than she as she thus acted deputy for the new little mistress of Deerhurst; whose story had lost none of its interest for the mountain folk because of its latest development.
But it was not at all as a proud young heiress that Dorothy came at last to the shop under the Great Balm Tree and threw herself impetuously upon the breast of the farrier quietly reading beside his silent forge.
“O, Mr. Seth! My darling Mr. Seth! I’m in terrible trouble and only you can help me!”
His book went one way, his spectacles another, dashed from his hands by her heedless onrush; but he let them lie where they had fallen and putting his arm around her, assured her:
“So am I. Therefore, let us condole with one another. You first.”
“I’ve lost Aunt Betty’s hundred dollars!”
Her friend fairly gasped, and held her from him to search her troubled face.
“Whe-ew! That is serious. Yet lost articles are sometimes found. Out with the whole story, ‘body and bones’ – as my man Owen would say.”
Already relieved by the chance of telling her worries, Dorothy related the incidents of the night, and she met the sympathy she expected. But it was like the nature-loving Mr. Winters that he was more disturbed by the loss of the great chestnut tree than by that of the money. Also, the story of the stranger she had found wandering by the lily-pond moved him deeply. All suffering or afflicted creatures were precious in the sight of this noble old man and he commented now with pity on the distress of the friends from whom the unknown one had strayed.
“How grieved they’ll be! For it must have been from some private household she came, or escaped. There is no public asylum or retreat within many miles of our mountain, so far as I know. I wonder if we ought to advertise her in the local newspaper? Or, do you think it would be kinder to wait and let her people hunt her up? Tell me, Dolly, dear. The opinion of a child often goes straight to the point.”
“Oh! Don’t advertise, please, Mr. Seth! Think. If she belonged to you or me we wouldn’t want it put in the paper that – about – you know, the lost one being not quite right, someway. If anybody’s loved her well enough to keep her out of an asylum they’ve loved her well enough to come and find her, quiet like, without anybody but kind hearted people having to know. If they don’t love her – well, she’s all right for now. Dinah’s put her to bed
