Read Ebook: Dorothy's Travels by Raymond Evelyn Schneider S Illustrator

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Ebook has 1119 lines and 62946 words, and 23 pages

Some were hurrying down the stairs to that "aft gangway," others speeding up them in equal haste with that excitement which always marks the infrequent traveler, and poor Alfaretta caught the same fever of haste. Without a word of real farewell, now that she had come thus far at so much risk to speak it, she dashed ahead, slipped on the brass-tipped stair and plunged headlong into the space below.

For an instant there was silence even in that busy scene, people halting in their ascent and porters turning their skids aside with angry exclamations, lest the trunks they wheeled should fall upon her as she seemed bent to fall upon them.

Yet only one thought now possessed the terrified girl--escape! She had bumped her head till she was dizzy, but she mustn't stop for that. Yonder yawned that open space in the deck-rail which they called the "aft gangway" and toward that point she propelled herself regardless of all that impeded her way.

Down the plank, out upon the boards of the board dock, into the medley of stages and yelling drivers she hurried, very much as James Barlow and Montmorency Stark had done at that other, upper landing. But when she felt the solid quay beneath her feet she paused, clapped her hands to her dizzy head and--felt herself grasped in a wild and fierce embrace.

Then both upon that dock and the deck of the outgoing steamer rang a shout of merriment, which made anger take the place of fear as she whirled about in the arms of whoever held her and shook her fist at the boat and its passengers.

"Well! That was a short trip but it was full of incident!" remarked one passenger, near to Molly and Dorothy. They had run to the rail to see what followed Alfy's disappearance, and if she were carried away injured. "I saw her come aboard and depart and she managed to get a deal of action into those few minutes. Friend of yours, young ladies?"

They faced about, wondering why this man should speak to them. He looked like a gentleman though a rather shabby one. Montmorency would have termed him "seedy." His coat had seen better days and his hat, lying on the bench beside him, was worn and discolored, and his thin white hair told that he, also, was old. This made the girls regard him kindly, for both of them had a reverence for age.

More than that, a crutch rested against his knee and this made an instant appeal to Dorothy's sympathy. She had seen nobody with a crutch since she had said farewell to Father John; and now in pity for this other cripple she lingered near answering his many questions most politely.

"Yes, she is a friend. She--I guess she ran away to sail a short distance with us. We shan't see each other again this summer. She forgot her money. I mean she didn't have any to forget; and--Sir? What did you ask me to find?"

"To buy a morning paper for me, my dear. You see, being lame--Did you ever know anybody who was lame?" asked the old man, with a smile.

"Ah! yes. The dearest man in all the world; my father."

Thereupon Dorothy huddled down beside the stranger and gave a history of her father's illness, his wonderful patience, and the last effort he was making to regain his health.

She did not know that it is often unsafe to talk with unknown people upon a journey; and in any case she would not have feared such a benignant old gentleman as this. She ended her talk with the inquiry:

"Where will I find the paper, Mr.--Mr.--I mean, sir?"

"Smith my name is. John Smith of Smithville. You'll find all the papers and books at a news-stand on the lower deck. There's a candy-stand there, too, such as will interest you two more than the papers, likely;" he answered with another smile.

They started down the stairs leading from the main saloon to the lower part of the boat, and not until they had reached the news-stand did either of them remember that she hadn't brought her purse nor asked which paper their new acquaintance desired.

"Oh! dear! Wasn't that silly of us! And we're almost to West Point, where my cousin Tom's a cadet! He promised to be on the lookout for us, if he could get leave to go to the steamboat landing. I wrote and told him about our trip and he answered right away. He's Aunt Lucretia's only child and she adores him. Hasn't spoiled him though. Papa took care about that! If I go back after our pocket-books I may lose the chance to see him! So provoking! I wish now we hadn't bothered ourselves about that old man. If he was able to come aboard the boat and go up those stairs to the deck he was able to buy his own old papers. So there!" cried Molly, stamping her little foot in her vexation.

West Point cadets are given few permissions to leave their Academy for social visits, so that Tom had never been to the Rhinelander school where rules were also so strict that Molly had been but once to see her cousin in his own quarters. Until he went to the Point and she to school in the hill-city a few miles further up the river, they had lived together in her father's house and were like brother and sister. The disappointment now was great to the loving girl and Dorothy hastened to comfort, by saying:

"Never mind, Molly, you stay right here. See! they're fixing that gang-plank again, at this very part of the deck. You stand right outside, close against the rail but where you won't be in the men's way and, if he's there, you'll surely see him.

"I'll go back and get the purses. Where did you lay them?"

"Hum. I don't know. I can't exactly think. You handed me yours, I remember, when you stooped to pick up his crutch he'd knocked down. Ah! Now I know. My hands got so warm and your pocketbook was red and I thought it would stain my new gloves. So I just laid them down on the bench beside him. You'll find them right there beside him. You can ask him which paper, then, and I say, Dolly Doodles, what right had that hindering old thing to expect us--us--to buy his papers for him? Why didn't he give us the money, himself? Seems if we'd been sort of--sort of goosies, doesn't it?"

"Oh! Molly! That's not nice of you to think about that dear, lame old man! And why he didn't was, I suppose, because he didn't think. We don't always think ourselves, dearie. Never mind. I'll hurry and be right back."

"Yes, do--do hurry! I've said so much about you in my letters I'm just suffering to have you two meet. Just suffering! Hark! They're whistling and ringing the bell and we'll be there in a minute! Do, do hurry--for I believe I see him now--that tall one at the end of the wharf--Hurry--or, better still--Wait! Wait!"

But long before the excited Molly had finished speaking Dorothy had run up the stairs, along the long passage to the aft deck where she had left her lame acquaintance waiting for her to do his simple errand.

He was not in the spot where she had left him. He was not in the big saloon, or parlor. He was not upon the forward deck; not yet amid the crowd pressed to the deck's rail, to watch for whatever might be seen at this historic landing place. Flying to the rail she scanned the few departing passengers and he was not among them. She saw, but scarcely realized that she did, a group of three cadets who had come as near the steamer as the wharf permitted and were gaily chattering with her chum, during the short stop that was made.

"Could he have fallen overboard? And if he did why did he take our purses with him?" she wondered. Then reflected that it would be a difficult thing to explain this affair to Miss Greatorex; and also that the missing pocket-books contained a full month's "allowance" for both Molly and herself.

A RACE AND ITS ENDING

Dorothy's search for the missing old man and, to her, the more important missing purses brought her to the lower deck and Molly. The latter was still leaning upon the rail, gazing a little sadly into the water, for the brief glimpse she had had of her cousin Tom had recalled their happy days in their old southern home. There were even a few tears in her bright blue eyes as she raised them toward her friend; but she checked them at once, frightened by the expression of Dorothy's own.

"Why, honey, what's the matter?"

"Our pocket-books are lost!"

"Lost? Lost! They can't be. You mustn't say so. We can't, we daren't lose them. Weren't they on that bench beside the old man?" demanded Molly.

"No, they were not. They were not anywhere--any single where. He wasn't either."

"Pooh! He must be. He probably wanted to change his seat and was afraid to leave them lying on the bench, lest somebody might be tempted to pick them up. Somebody to whom they didn't belong, I mean."

"Molly, what shall we do? What will Miss Greatorex say?"

"Humph. She'll probably scream out her disgust as if we were deaf too like herself. That's the way she always does: when there's something to be said you don't want anybody else to hear she just talks her loudest; and when there's something you're longing to know she merely whispers. That's the way all deaf people do, Miss Penelope says. And--you're the one that lost them, so you'll be the one to tell her, Dorothy girl."

"Why, child, I don't see how I lost them any more than you did! I'm sorry as I can be. Sorrier about yours than mine even, though I'd planned so many nice things to do with the money. Five dollars! Think of it! I never before had five whole dollars at a time, never in my life!" said Dolly, mournfully.

"Well, what's the use staying down here and just worrying about the thing? Let's go and look again for the man. When we find the man we shall find the purses; but--whether he'll give them back to us is another matter."

"Molly, what a dreadful thing to say! As if you thought he--he stole them, a nice old gentleman like that!"

"Pooh! Once my Aunt Lucretia had her little handbag snatched out of her hand, right on Broadway street in New York city. She did so; and all she could remember about the snatcher was that he was a handsome young man with an eyeglass in one eye. A regular dandy he was, if the thief was the fellow who brushed against her so rudely. Anyhow, after he'd brushed, her bag was gone and all her shopping money in it. Papa told her it served her right. That to carry a purse, or a bag, that way was a temptation to any rogue who happened to pass by. He said the snatcher was smarter than Auntie and he hoped it would teach her a lesson. Aunt Lu thought Papa was almost as horrid as the thief; and what will either of them say to us for being so careless?"

"I suppose we'll have to tell them!" reflected Dorothy, in sad perplexity.

"Course we will. Aren't they both to meet us at the steamer? Aren't they going with us all the way to Halifax? Why, I should want to tell the very first thing. How else would I get any more money?"

"I don't know, I'm sure. Lucky you! As for me there's nobody to replace my five dollars, so far as I know."

"Oh! come on. Don't let's stand moping. I'll tell you. Let's begin right here at this spot. You go one side this lower place, all along that passage beside the engine-rooms and things and I'll go the other. Then if we don't see him anywhere here we'll meet at the foot of the stairs and search the upper floor just the same way. Out on both ends of the boat, poke into closets and barber-shop and captain's office--everywhere there is a chance a man, a passenger man, might be."

It seemed a fine scheme and they promptly separated to put it into execution. But when they met at the foot of the stairway, leading to the upper saloon, neither had any success to report. Nor did they meet with any better fortune when they had made a prolonged examination of the whole steamer, even climbing to the hurricane deck and questioning the officer upon the bridge.

As they slowly descended to the place where Miss Greatorex awaited them, alarmed by their absence and equally afraid to move from the spot lest somebody else should confiscate their three comfortable camp-chairs and, possibly, their hand luggage, Dorothy suggested:

"Let's write it. That'll save other people, strangers, from hearing. Miss G. always carries a pad and pencil with her and I'll do it myself, since you think I'm most to blame. But I'm afraid even my writing won't stop her talking when she finds out! Oh! dear! I wish Alfy Babcock had never come on this boat! Then I shouldn't have gone to watch her and seen him."

"Huh! I don't think it's quite fair to blame poor Alfy for our own fault. We'd no business to be so careless, either one of us. I had a bright notion that maybe that stewardess or some official had picked up the pocket-books, so I asked every single one of them, big and little, black and white, and not a soul knew a thing about it. No, Dolly Doodles, the blame's our own and--the man's," said Molly, with conviction.

Miss Greatorex was vastly relieved to see her charges returning to her side. She had become anxious over their prolonged absence and in her nervousness had imagined all sorts of accidents which might have befallen them. Yet the same nervousness had prevented her questioning any employee of the steamer, who had come near, she shrinking from the observation this would attract to her deafness.

Therefore, it was with a much brighter smile than ordinary that she welcomed the truants, and was disappointed to have her greeting so dejectedly returned.

"I began to worry over you, my dears, I cannot call either of you really mischievous, yet I hope you won't leave me in suspense so long again. Anywhere, so that you are in my sight all of the time, you are free to move about. But--Why, my dears! What has happened to make you so sober?"

It certainly was vexing, when the lady was making such extra effort to be agreeable and to adapt herself to young people's ideas, to have these efforts so disregarded; and it was a strange thing that Dorothy should without permission take the notebook and pencil from her teacher's lap and begin to write.

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