CHAPTER VI
AT THE SWING
The strange story of the reformed man filled Dorothy's brain withexciting thoughts that night, and it was almost morning when shefinally fell asleep. Even then she dreamed of all;--the fortune herfather was to have in trust, the wicked man who had been trying to getit, and the poor wife and child who were hidden away somewhere, perhapsnow starving. In her dreams she became Nellie, and she tried, oh, sohard, to find her own father, the dear major. The worry of it even insleep gave Dorothy a severe headache, and when she awoke she found hernerves still throbbing and her brow hot and feverish.
"Oh, I'll be so glad to go to school to-day," she thought. "I am tiredof all this worry, and it will be good to be back with the girls again."
"Doro, let me in! Let me in!" little Roger was calling at her door, andbefore she had a chance to finish dressing, her little brother had hissoft white arms about her neck.
"Now, don't you look. You can't see until I've given you a quart ofkisses, then you have to promise not to cry."
"Cry? What for?" she asked.
"Cross your heart, first," he insisted.
Then she saw that his curls were gone.
"Oh, darling!" she exclaimed, "who did it?"
"Jake, the barber. And daddy said so. He said you should not botherwith tangles any more. Now don't you dare cry. You promised."
The girl took the little boy in her arms. Why did they do it just thatday, when her head ached, and she had so many worries? Those beautifulcurls! How she had loved them!
"Now Doro, you are going to cry, 'cause your eyes look like polly-wogs.And you must be glad that I'm a man, like Joe, now," and the boy sprangfrom her arms, and stood up like a "major" before her.
Then he was a "man," and her baby no longer. It was not the curls somuch, but taking her baby from her, that hurt so.
The loving mother-spirit, that had made Dorothy Dale the girl she was,seemed to grow stronger now with every tear that clouded her eyes. Yes,he bad been her baby, and she had loved him with a wonderful love--sentinto her heart, she always thought, by the mother in heaven who watchedover them both.
"You have been a very good boy," she managed to say, "and Joe is a verygood boy, so, if you can be like him, perhaps I will not be so lonelywithout the other Roger."
It was an hour later that Dorothy met Tavia in the lane and hurried toschool with her. Of course she could not tell her friend what it wasthat made her so quiet, and it really was hard to keep a secret likethat of the mysterious man from Tavia.
Perhaps she could tell her in the afternoon, by that time Mr. Burlockwould likely have all his affairs attended to and then he said he wouldtell the town who the man was for whom the people had been looking.
As Dorothy and Tavia came into the schoolyard they saw Sarah Ford onthe swing, that hung from a heavy square frame.
Down went Tavia's books on the grass.
"First for a run under!" she called, and instantly a line of girlsformed, while Tavia led, of course, with such a "run under" that Sarahtried to jump to save herself from another like it.
"Hold fast!" shouted the next girl, who already had her arms up to theswing board. Then one after another they jumped to reach the board, andsend it higher and higher until the girl on the swing threatened toturn over the frame.
"Oh, please stop!" she cried, "there goes the bell!"
One more "good push" sent her up into the air, and the girls were allgone--school was in.
For one moment Sarah held on and then jumped--into the remains of thejanitor's rubbish fire!
Sarah Ford picked herself up. Her white dress was covered with soot anddirt. The classes were called by this time, and she could not go intothe cloak room.
"Oh, that horrid mean thing, Tavia Travers!" she thought. "I will notgive the girls a chance to laugh at me," and, darting out of the gate,she ran down the lane--away from school.
At the end of the lane the girl turned into an orchard and sank downunder an apple tree.
Had she really run away from school? She could not turn back now, andwhat would her father say? He was so severe about school, he neverwould take any excuse.
The black soot had almost all blown off her dress. If she had not beenso proud always, about her looks, perhaps she would not have noticed itmuch.
"Oh, what will I do to that girl!" she thought. "It was all her fault,and I'll lose my place too."
The sense of bitterness that filled Sarah Ford's heart was an entirelydifferent sentiment from that which animated Tavia Travers when shemade up, the "running under" game. The one was the sense of revenge,bitter and cunning; the other was a matter of school girl's fun, pureand simple.
Sitting there on the grass that revengeful spirit took the form of aresolve in Sarah's heart--to "pay back" Tavia Travers.