CHAPTER XVII
SPRUCE BOUGHS AND LAUREL WREATHS
Mrs. Brownlie's immense parlors were stripped of all movable furniture inpreparation for the charity entertainment.
Strong linen crash covered the handsome carpets, and the camp stools to beused on the evening of the performance had already arrived.
That afternoon the Fire Bird brought the evergreens from The Cedars--thosewhich had been gathered some few days before and had since been storedcarefully in the garage--and an additional supply came from Ferndale, theresult of an enterprising expedition to the woods, under the management ofMiss Agnes Sinclair.
Besides a necessary rehearsal, the evening was to be spent in decoratingfor the play. Mrs. White had requested every one to be on hand early, andnow the young folks were arriving.
Little Mary Mahon was the first to come--in accordance with Dorothy'sarrangements, for Mary was to rehearse her part before the others wouldget there, and just what her number would be was to be kept secret.
The Brownlie girls, Eva and Edith, understood the remark Dorothy made asshe entered, and so left the parlors entirely at her disposal, evenlocking the door from the hall and throwing open the library toaccommodate any one who might come before Mary's "practice" was over.
A recitation had been selected for Mary--one that afforded ampleopportunity for the child's natural talent to act--for she had talent, andboth Mrs. White and Dorothy were delighted with the prospect of what thequeer child would add to the program.
There was something so weird about Mary--if that word might be fitly usedto denote her peculiar characteristics.
She was not deformed, but she surely was deficient physically. She wasthin to emaciation, she had fiery red hair, and Roger always declared "hereyes and eyebrows were just as red as her hair."
The recitation chosen for her was "Guilty or Not Guilty?" and it seemed tosuit her strangely. Of course, when a child is almost constantly in thecompany of aged persons, and takes no pleasure in play, besides beingover-studious, she is bound to be "queer."
And such was Mary Mahon.
When Dorothy threw open the parlor door after the rehearsal her face wasradiant. She was pleased--delighted with Mary, and the girls waiting to beadmitted to the "hall" exchanged knowing glances when Dorothy told themthe room was ready.
Tom and Roland were there, Agnes Sinclair, Mabel Hastings, Ned, and Nat,of course; Tavia was with Eva Brownlie, chatting as if there was nothingelse to be done that evening; Betty Bindley managed to get her daintylittle self secure with Harold Osborne (Handsome Harold, they called him),and other members of the auxiliary and their friends were there ready tobegin the work of rehearsing and decorating.
Besides the pictures there was to be music--the Brownlie girls played theviolin beautifully, and Dorothy was an acknowledged pianist; then AgnesSinclair was to entertain with monologues, and the boys were to have avocal double quartette.
The arranging of this program involved considerable work, so to-nightthere was no time to be wasted.
"Let's get the wreaths first," proposed Dorothy. "We shall need such longstrings to go all around the room. While some of us are at these, otherscan be going through their parts."
Tom grabbed a huge mass of broken laurel branches, made his way to acorner, placed two chairs before the pile of greens and deliberatelysought out Dorothy.
"Come," he said very kindly, "I've got a quiet job for you. You usuallyget too much of the all-around business. Let us run a race making thewreath, or strings, I suppose you want. Here, Ned," he called across theroom, "get your stuff and your girl, and I'll race you for a mile of greenstring."
Could anything be more inopportune? To select Dorothy to be his partneragainst Ned in a race!
But the idea of a contest was quickly taken up by the others, so that soonthe party had paired off, and racing with the strings of laurel became amatter of enjoyment, and not a question of work.
Dorothy took her place with Tom; Agnes Sinclair was with Ned; Nat went towork with Eva Brownlie, and Tavia sat beside Roland.
How quickly the fingers flew! And how soon the small sprigs of green weretwined into long, soft garlands!
"I'll keep tally," proffered Edith Brownlie, glad to escape the morecertain duty of tying the cords about the boughs.
For an hour all worked and chatted gaily, the boys continually "bettingagainst bets," while the girls would complain that too much conversationinterfered with the progress of the race.
When the full hour had passed Edith called "Time!" Then the measuringbegan.
"No stretching!" warned Ned as he held his rope of green against thatwhich Tom and Dorothy had woven.
"Ours!" called Tom, as the one string pulled out two yards longer than theother.
Then every other strand was measured against that. Not one came up to thegarland made by Dorothy and Tom.
"Oh, of course," pouted Eva, "Dorothy and Tom could not possibly have beenbeaten. They're such a strong team!"
The others laughed, although Dorothy did not like the remark.
Ned lifted his eyebrows thoughtfully, but never once smiled at Dorothy'striumph.
"Tavia has the 'Booby,'" announced Tom, who had done all the measuring,"Now distribute the prizes, please."
Tavia protested, of course, and soon the room was in an uproar. Finallythe ladies insisted the wreaths should be put up, and when the chairs andstepladders had been brought the boys began festooning the long strings ofgreen about the room, over windows and doors, and about the finely-flutedposts that marked the arches.
Dorothy purposely took Ned's rope to hold for him.
"Won't it look pretty?" she asked, trying to show her interest in hiswork.
"Guess so," he answered indifferently, without looking at his cousin.
"Here, Dorothy," called Tom. "You are not to work. This sofa is especiallyprovided for our comfort. Here, sit down," and taking her arm, heattempted to lead her away from the ladder upon which Ned stood.
"Let me have it," said Ned, jerking the rope from Dorothy's grasp.Instinctively she held to it, and looked up in some astonishment at hercousin.
A moment later Ned swayed toward her. She had released her hold of therope, and the sudden easing of the strain which the youth put upon itcaused him to lose his balance. He swayed still farther away from theladder, and thrust out his hands to grasp the rungs. He dropped the rope,and as Dorothy gave a frightened scream he crashed to the floor, right ather feet, narrowly missing striking her.
She had barely time to jump aside when the ladder crashed down beside theprostrate form of Ned.
Instantly the room was in an uproar. Ned was hurt--he did not attempt tomove, but lay there almost unconscious.
"Oh, my boy!" cried Mrs. White, bending over him.
"Ned! Ned!" implored the frightened Dorothy, with her white face veryclose to his. "It was all my fault!"
"No," spoke up Tom, "I should not have distracted him while he was up sohigh. Come, boy," to Ned, "let me lift you."
The strong arms of Tom Scott encircled the helpless one, and very tenderlyNed was lifted, then carried to a lounge in the library.
"Oh, I'm all right," he managed to say, when Tom had placed him on thecouch. "I just hurt my--knee, I guess."
The expression of pain that crossed his face showed plainly some memberwas injured, and Mrs. Brownlie, in spite of his protests, insisted oncalling a doctor.
"HE CRASHED TO THE FLOOR, RIGHT AT HER FEET."--_Page_158.]
Dorothy wanted to cry. She felt it was somehow her fault. If only Tom hadnot interfered! But of course he meant no harm. Yet she knew how Ned felt.
"Oh, dear," she sighed aloud, "I did feel that something would happen!"
"I'm sorry," said Ned feebly. "I was a--goose to snap it so, Doro."
Tom had gone out to the telephone in the hall. Mrs. White and Mrs.Brownlie advised the others to leave off the decorating until the nextday, as it would be best to get the house quiet.
"Every shock h
as a nervous reaction," explained Mrs. Brownlie indismissing her guests thus suddenly, "and it will be best to keep himquiet until the doctor comes."
Tavia wanted to stay, but not even Dorothy was accorded that privilege.Tom remained with Mrs. White, and Nat went for the Fire Bird, in which totake his brother and mother home, there being no room for the others in itnow.
"How ever did it happen?" Tavia asked of Dorothy as they walked the shortdistance home in Roland's company.
"I had hold of his rope," replied Dorothy, still showing her distress,"and he attempted to take it--"
"He acted so queerly all evening," commented Tavia. "I never saw him socross."
"I did not notice it," said Roland, touching the bell at the door of TheCedars. "I thought him in the best of spirits."
"Of course, it was simply an accident," added Dorothy. "How he felt couldhave had nothing to do with it."
"Well, everything seems queer," declared Tavia. "I just wonder how it willall turn out."
"That must depend entirely upon ourselves," insisted the practicalDorothy. "But we will have trouble in getting some one to take Ned'splace-- Oh, dear, if I had only--but there's no use lamenting." And whenRoland said good-night at the door Dorothy went directly to her ownroom--she was too much depressed to join the family's expression ofanxieties.
The queer holidays were surely nearing a climax.