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  CHAPTER XX

  THE DAY AFTER SCHOOL

  A great day had dawned for Dorothea Bruce, a day long dreamed of andalas, long dreaded!

  The first day after school life!

  She would joyfully have taken another two years of school-days, withtheir sober joys and sweet intimate friendships; their griefs and smallquarrellings; their lessons and their play hours; their meetings andtheir breakings up.

  But yesterday she had "broken up" for ever. Yesterday she had mournfullygiven eight locks of her beautiful hair away as "keepsakes," although itmust be owned to-day she had examined her hair carefully, looking overher shoulder to see how it bore the loss of its tendrils.

  Yesterday she had wept separately with each of her "intimate" friends,excepting only Alma Montague, at this dreadful parting that had comeabout.

  Alma was not to lose Dorothea at all, instead she was to have her all toherself at Katoomba for the holidays, and her queer little yellow facewore a superior smile as she saw the other girls' sorrow at parting fromtheir "darling Thea."

  Many things were promised and vowed in this touching season. The littleband of intimates were to write to each other every week; still to telleach other _every single_ secret; to think of each other every night; tobe each other's bridesmaids as long as there were maids to go round, andto visit each other in their married homes.

  For of course they were all going to be married--every one of them.

  It was Nellie Harden who had first alluded to the time "When I ammarried," "When you are married," etc. She said she was rather curiousto see who would be married first, and even plain little Alma feltcheerful in looking forward to the time when she would be engaged. Theysimply took it for granted that in the great beautiful world into whichthey were going there were lovers--lovers in plenty; lovers who vowedbeautiful vows, and performed gallant deeds, and wore immaculateclothing, and still more immaculate moustaches.

  Dorothea had decided to be "elder sister" to the best of her ability.She intensely admired the beautiful elder sister in _The Mother ofEight_, a book Mona had just lent to her.

  The mother of eight was a girl of eighteen, who had promised her motheron her death-bed to be a mother to all the little ones. Lovers had cometo her, imploring her to "make their lives," friends had put in theirclaims, pleasures had beckoned; but the mother of eight had shaken herbeautiful head and stood there at her post until the eight were marriedand settled in homes of their own, when the "mother" had suddenly diedof a broken heart.

  This book formed the basis of Dorothea's day-dreams. She, too, was goingto be an "elder sister" and reform the home. In the flights of herimagination she saw herself making Betty and Nancy new frocks, mendingCyril's trousers, trimming her mother's hats, correcting her father'smanuscripts.

  Wherever she looked she seemed to be wanted. A great place gaped in thehousehold, and it was for the elder sister to step in and fill it. AndBetty, wild madcap Betty, would want talking to, and training andputting into the way in which she should go. And, of course, loverswould come for Dot, but until Baby was well started in life she wouldhave none of them. And when she married, "a few silver threads would bediscernible in her golden hair, and there would be patient tired linesat the corners of her mouth."

  But it was only the first day after school now, and she had much tothink of. She was not going to commence the new order of things by beingan elder sister, although the home needed her sorely.

  As things had fallen out, it was necessary, she found, to set duty asidefor a while.

  She was invited to spend the end of December and the whole of Januarywith Alma Montague at Katoomba. They were to stay at the best hotelthere--Mrs. Montague, her sister Mrs. Stacey, Alma and Dot. Rooms hadalready been engaged for the party (Alma's and Dot's adjoining eachother's), and all sorts of intoxicating details been settled.

  Dot, indeed, spoke to her mother once about coming home to help,instead of going away, but even if she had meant it--which mustbe questioned--Mrs. Bruce was quite decided that she should go.

  "It will do you good," she said, "and we don't need you at home at all.Betty will be here--it will be holiday-time and she must help."

  For February Dot had an invitation to Tasmania. In her wildestimaginings she did not dream of accepting it, but Minnie Stevenson,whose school-days lay behind her too, was going down before Christmasand declared she could not be without Dot longer than the middle ofFebruary.

  And Mona--Mona, her nearest and dearest friend, said it was _very_ hoton the Richmond River till the end of March, but April was a perfectmonth there, and in April she would take _no_ refusal. She must haveThea in her own home all to herself then.

  Nellie Harden had her mother's consent to ask Dot to "come out" withher. The debut was to take place in June, at a big ball, and Nellie had"set her heart" on Thea and herself coming out at the _very_ same ball,on the _very_ same night as each other, "All in white, you know, Theadarling, and we _will_ look so nice."

  So it will be seen Dot's idea of being elder sister and home daughterhad every chance of remaining an idea for the present. With suchalluring pleasures, where was there room for duty?

  "I'll do my best _every_ time I am at home," said Dot to herself,weighing pleasure and duty in the balance and finding duty sadlywanting, "and I'll _write_ Betty good letters of advice, and take somemending away with me to do."

  But all that belonged to yesterday.

  To-day Dot was at home, and in the important position of being about toset out upon a journey. She was to start early in the morning and to godirect to the Redfern railway station.

  Mr. Bruce had gone to town to draw a five guinea cheque for his eldestdaughter. He also had to do a little shopping on her account. All hisinstructions were written down in Dot's fair round hand-writing upon apiece of foreign notepaper and slipped into his waistcoat pocket.

  For those who are at all curious to know what the items were we willsteal a look at the paper--

  1. Pair of white canvas shoes, size 2.

  2. One cake of blanco (for cleaning them with).

  3. Two pairs of black silk _shoe_ laces--not boot laces--(all of those things at the same shop).

  4. 1-1/4 yds. of _white_ chiffon (_very_ thin--for a veil).

  5. 1 bunch of scarlet poppies--just common ones (both of these at same shop--draper's).

  6. _At a chemist's_: sponge (6_d._), tooth-brush (9_d._), Packet of violet powder (6_d._).

  Mrs. Bruce was letting down Dot's dresses, and altering a pretty bluesilk evening blouse (bought ready made). Cyril had cleaned her shoes andthe family portmanteau, an ugly black thing, and run half a dozenerrands grumblingly--all for Dot!

  Betty was locked in her room in disgrace, for running away to seek herfortune. No one was allowed to speak to her, even Baby's "Bet, Bet," wassternly hushed; two slices of bread and a glass of water were placedoutside her door three times a day; three times a day she was permittedto walk for five minutes, each time alone in the garden, then back againto her room.

  This state of things, which had commenced on Wednesday morning, was, ifBetty showed proper penitence and meekness, to terminate on Saturdaymorning.

  Yet even prisoner Betty was employed on Dot's behalf. She had Dot'sstockings to mend, and to add insignificant things like buttons andtapes and hooks and eyes to those of her garments which had aninsufficiency of such trifles. And she was sewing away industriouslyas she brooded over her woes.

  Dot herself was unpacking and packing up. Unpacking all her exercisebooks, and notebooks, and stacks of neat examination papers; her lessonbooks and Czerney's 101 _Exercises for the Pianoforte_; her sewingsamples and wool-work; her study of a head in crayon, and waratahs andflannel flowers in oils, and peep of Sydney Harbour in water colours.

  "When I come home again," she told herself gravely, "I will arrangelife: I'll practise _at least_ two hours every morning; I'll do somesolid good reading _every_ day--some one like Shakespeare or Milton orBacon! I'll
paint every afternoon. I really have a talent forlandscapes. And I'll finish writing my novel. For some things I'm reallyglad I've finished learning."

  A keen observer, regarding Dot's new scheme for life, would detect verylittle time or thought for reforming the household, and training Bettyand teaching the younger ones. But then, Dot's schemes varied, and aday seemed to her a very big piece of time to have to play with as sheliked, all in her own hands. Hitherto it had been given out to her inhours by Miss Weir--this hour for French, that for English, this for aconstitutional, that for sewing, this for the Scriptures, that forpractice, and so on.

  What wonder that the felt she could crowd all the arts and sciences intoa day when all the hours belonged to her for her very own.

  When she went to bed at night, by way of beginning the home reforms shelooked at Betty very earnestly and shook her head, words beingforbidden.

  And she removed her own particular text from above her bed to aboveBetty's, feeling very old and sedate the while, for it must be ownedconscious virtue has a sobering effect.

  But the action threw Betty into a towering rage.

  "If you don't take down your old text I won't get into bed at all. I'veonly been trying to make you all rich."

  And Dot, who was always alarmed into placidity when she had provokedwrath, returned "Blessed are the pure in heart" to its own position onthe wall.