Chapter 13

A SERENADE

JACK TIVERTON stood in the lower hall one morning, and appeared as if waiting for some one. In his hand was a short switch that he had cut from a shrub that grew beside the driveway. Often he looked up the staircase, and then, as no one appeared, he would continue to strike at the flies that flew past the doorway.

At last he heard merry voices upon the landing, and then Dorothy and Nancy came hurrying down the stairs.

"Good morning!" they called, but Jack, in his eagerness to ask questions, forgot to return their greeting.

"Say!" he cried, "do you know that Mrs. Paxton and Floretta left this morning before breakfast?"

No, the little girls did not know that.

"Well, they have. I saw them go, and I'm glad. Floretta was fun to play with, but she wasn't fair. She'd get me to do things, and then if we got caught, she'd always say I planned it," said Jack.

Dorothy tried to think of something kind to say of Floretta, but she knew that what Jack said was true. Floretta truly was not in the habit of playing "fair."

"Her mamma said something queer just as she was going off. She was talking to a lady, I don't know what her name is, and Mrs. Paxton said:

"'Well, Dorothy Dainty has always seemed to be fond of Nancy, but now that Nancy is to have a _fortune_, shell love her a deal more than she ever did before.'"

And now Dorothy spoke, her blue eyes flashing, and her cheeks flushed.

"That's not true!" she cried. "That's not true! I've always loved Nancy, and always will. I'd love her if she had just nothing at all! Nothing could make any difference. I love her all I can. Nancy knows that. Every one knows that."

How keenly she felt Mrs. Paxton's silly speech!

She was indignant that any one should think her love for Nancy so little worth while that fortune could make it stronger.

How could she love Nancy more than she had always loved her?

Nancy threw her arms about her, and drew her closer.

"Don't you mind, Dorothy," she said, "_I_ know how truly you love me. Mrs. Paxton didn't know, because I guess she couldn't understand it. _She_ couldn't love the way you do."

Dorothy smiled through the tears that had filled her eyes.

"There's no one dearer than you, Nancy," she said.

Jack swung his switch at a dragon-fly that flew past the doorway.

"Did you see that darning-needle?" he asked.

"Well," he continued, without waiting for an answer, "I was down the road a few days ago, trying to catch some of those big steel-colored ones in my fly-net. I hadn't seen any one after I left this piazza, but just as I swung my net round to catch the dragon-fly, somebody said: 'Look out, or you'll get bitten!' and I turned round, but no one was in sight. I was just going to swing my net again, when some one giggled, and then I saw a little skinny girl looking at me from between some bushes."

"What was she doing?" Dorothy asked.

"You couldn't guess if you tried for a month!" said Jack.

"She was sitting on a big stone, beside a big puddle that was left there after the shower. She said she was playing she was a frog, and when she stared at me through her glasses, and smiled, no, _grinned_ at me, I couldn't help thinking she looked like one. Say, she had on a green cloak, a regular frog-color."

"It must have been _Arabella_!" said Nancy.

"I don't know what her name was. I didn't ask her, but while I watched her she hopped off the stone into the puddle with both feet, and cried, 'po-dunk!' just like an old bullfrog. My! Weren't her shoes wet!"

"I wonder what her Aunt Matilda said when she went home with wet feet," said Dorothy.

Without noticing what she said, Jack continued.

"I never saw such a queer girl!" he said, in disgust, "for when I told her dragonflies would never bite, she said: 'They will. They'll sew your eyes, and nose, and mouth up. Po-dunk!' and she hopped back on to the stone, and grinned at me just as she did at first. Say! She made me feel queer to look at her, and I turned and ran away. I wasn't afraid of her, of course, but she _did_ make me feel queer!"

"She'd make any one feel queer," said Nancy as they turned toward the dining-room.

Jack wished that they might have stayed longer in the hall. He had intended to ask them if they knew Arabella, and if she was always doing queer things, but Mrs. Dainty and Aunt Charlotte joined them, and they went in for breakfast.

Mrs. Tiverton, coming in from an early walk, took Jack with her to the other side of the dining-room. He looked across at them, and wondered what they could have told of Arabella if they had had a chance. He decided to question them, whispering softly to himself:

"I'll _make_ them tell me all they know about that funny girl."

For several days he tried to catch Dorothy or Nancy at a time when he could question them.

He chased Dorothy up the long stairway one morning, only to see her disappear into her room. He had not told her that he had wished to talk with her, and she, believing that he was only chasing her for fun, ran from him, laughing as she went.

He found Nancy, a few minutes later, and coaxed her to wait on the landing.

"Now, Nancy," he said, "you've got to tell me something about that queer girl that you and Dorothy know."

"If you mean Arabella," said Nancy, "I don't see what I could tell you, only that she _is_ queer, and you know that now."

"You'll better believe I know it!" cried Jack, "for I met her again yesterday, and guess what she was doing!"

"Oh, I couldn't," said Nancy. "No one ever could guess what Arabella Corryville would do."

"Well, she looked like a witch, and acted like one, too," Jack replied. "It was yesterday that I saw her. I was going across the field, and had nearly reached the wall, when I looked up, and saw her sitting on the top bar of the--the--oh, the place where they take down the bars to let the cattle through."

"I know where you mean," said Nancy, "but why was it strange that she was sitting there?"

"It was what she was doing that was funny," Jack replied, "and because you couldn't guess, I'll tell you.

"She didn't look toward me, though I'm sure she must have heard me coming, for I was just tramping along, and whistling all the way. She was looking up at the clouds, and counting, 'one--two--three--' very slowly, and when I was close behind her, she said:

"'Hush--sh--sh! I'm charming the crows!'

"'How long does it take to do it?' I said, for it sounded like nonsense, and I wanted to hurry. It was almost lunch time.

"'Hush--sh!' she said again. 'There comes one of them now!' and sure enough a big, black crow did come flying right down, and perched on the limb of an old tree near her."

"Why, Jack Tiverton," cried Nancy, "you don't believe Arabella really _made_ him come down, do you?"

"Of course not," cried Jack, "but she wanted me to think so. Say! She said she was saying a charm, and when I asked her what it was, she wouldn't tell me. She said it would spoil the charm to tell it. She looked funny sitting up there on the top rail, and staring at the crows till her eyes watered. She didn't look like a 'charmer.' She looked ever so much more like a scarecrow!"

"Oh, Jack, it's horrid to say that!" cried Nancy, at the same time trying not to let him see how near she was to laughing.

"Well, she _did_!" Jack insisted, "and you're almost laughing now, Nancy Ferris, and you'd have screamed if you'd seen her roosting there, and calling herself a charmer! Why, that old crow just flopped down there for fun, and when he saw the queer-looking girl, he cawed as if it made him mad, and I didn't blame him. Say! She had a shoe on one foot, and a slipper on the other. Her apron was put on back-side-to, and she had a hen's feather in each hand, and she waved them up and down while she mumbled some kind of a verse. She said her clothes were put on that way to help the charm. Isn't she a _ninny_?"

Just at that moment, before Nancy could reply, Mrs. Tiverton called Jack, and Nancy ran to tell the story of Arabella's latest freak to Dorothy.

* * * * *

One afternoon, a number of little girls were sitting on the piazza at the Cleverton, and their merry voices attracted Jack Tiverton, who glanced up from the book that he was reading, and then, because he was curious to know what so interested them, crossed the piazza, and joined the group.

Dorothy and Nancy, in the big hammock, held the book of fairy tales, Flossie Barnet sat near them, while the others, all little guests at the hotel, sat upon the railing, or in the large rockers that stood near.

Jack joined the row perched upon the railing.

"Tell a fellow what you are all talking about, will you? Will you, _please_, I mean?" he asked.

"Dorothy Dainty has been reading us a lovely story," said a little girl, whose merry eyes showed that she had enjoyed it.

"What's it about?" Jack asked, and then, "Oh, _fairy_ tales!" he said.

"Don't you like fairy tales?" Flossie questioned, looking up at him.

No one liked to differ with dear little Flossie, least of all, Jack Tiverton.

"Oh, I like them _some_," he said, awkwardly, "but,--are there any stories about bandits or pirates in that book?"

"Oh, no," they cried, in a laughing chorus, "and there aren't any wild Indians in it, either."

"I don't care much about Indian stories," Jack replied, "but I do like to read about pirates."

"But just hear what this one was about," said Nancy.

"The wandering prince had, for years, been searching for a lovely princess, who should look like a beautiful picture that hung in his father's palace. One day he came to a castle where the people told him a handsome princess was imprisoned, and he asked why she was kept there. They told him that she was enchanted, and that some day, a wandering prince would sing beneath her window, and then the spell would be broken, and she would be free."

Jack was interested.

"But s'posing he couldn't sing?" he asked.

"Oh, a prince could surely sing!" said Flossie.

"And p'raps he could sing under her window, if he couldn't anywhere else," ventured a dreamy-eyed little girl who sat near Dorothy.

"And how would he know _what_ to sing?" a cheery voice questioned, and a pair of merry eyes peered over the piazza railing.

"Oh, Uncle Harry!" cried Flossie, "what difference would it make?"

"All the difference in the world," declared Uncle Harry, "for while the proper melody would set the princess free, how are we to know that the wrong melody might not chain her closer than before!"

"Why, the story doesn't say that," said Nancy.

"Perhaps not, but the prince took an _awful_ risk when he chose what to sing," declared Uncle Harry.

"You're laughing when you say it," said Dorothy.

"He is," agreed Flossie, "and what he says is funny, but I know this: I'd love to hear some one singing under _my_ window!"

Some ladies, who sat near enough to hear the conversation, were amused at the children's enthusiasm, and at Uncle Harry's evident interest.

"The prince had his guitar slung over his shoulder by a ribbon," said Dorothy. "See the picture," and she slipped from the hammock, and offered the book that he might see the illustration.

"I'm glad he carried his guitar instead of a banjo," he said.

"Why are you glad of that?" Flossie asked.

"Oh, because I really _am_, in fact, I might even say I am delighted," he replied.

"I do believe he intends to serenade those children," said a handsome woman, to her friend who sat beside her; "he is a brilliant man, and one who is blessed with many talents, and one of his greatest charms is his love of children. He will go far out of his way to afford them a bit of fun."

That evening, when nearly every one had left the piazza, and all of the children were in their rooms, the soft twanging of guitar strings floated up toward Flossie's window.

She was not yet asleep, and she sat up in bed, and listened.

Yes, it was a guitar! Was it Uncle Harry's?

A little prelude softly played, drew her toward the window.

She crept closer, and peeped out. Yes, there he was, looking right up toward her window.

Now his fine voice was softly singing, and Flossie held her breath.

"Under thy window, my little lady, Under thy window, Flossie dear, Here where the moonbeams softly flicker, Sing I this song that you may hear.

"Moonlight, and starlight weave enchantment, Yet shall my song your freedom bring, You shall be happy little lady, Give me your love for the song I sing."

"Oh, Uncle Harry, you have it _now_!" cried Flossie. "I love you, when you're singing, and _all_ the time."

"I know that, dear little girl, but I _must_ have my fun, so I came here to sing the song I made for you," he said gently.

"Well, you're _dear_," she cried, "and I'll throw you a kiss," and she did, reaching far out of the window that he might surely see her.

"I caught it!" he cried, and as he turned toward the porch, she heard him softly strumming the prelude again.

Others had heard the pretty song, for Dorothy and Nancy had a room next to Flossie's.

The next morning he was coaxed and teased to sing the song again, but he declared that he could only sing it in the moonlight, that the daylight would spoil its effect.

The sunny days sped on wings, and soon the guests began to think of turning homeward.

Mrs. Dainty's party and the Barnets were to leave the hotel at the same time, and Dorothy, Nancy, and Flossie were delighted that they were to take the return trip together.

They were talking of the pleasures that they were looking forward to, and telling of some delightful events that were already planned, when Jack Tiverton gave them a genuine surprise.

"Mamma has just told me something fine," he said, "and I ran right down to tell it to you."

"Oh, tell it quick!" said Flossie.

"We're going to live in Merrivale, and we'll be there soon after we leave here. I'm glad. Are you, _all_ of you?" he asked.

"Of course we're glad," said Dorothy and Nancy; and Flossie hastened to add:

"Every one of us is glad."

There were bright days, and many pleasures in store for the little friends, and those who would like also to enjoy them, and to know what happened during the winter, may read of all this in

"Dorothy Dainty's Holidays."

THE DOROTHY DAINTY SERIES

By AMY BROOKS

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Large 12mo Cloth Illustrated by the Author

Price, $1.00 each

_Dorothy Dainty_ _Dorothy's Playmates_ _Dorothy Dainty at School_ _Dorothy Dainty at the Shore_ _Dorothy Dainty in the City_ _Dorothy Dainty at Home_ _Dorothy Dainty's Gay Times_ _Dorothy Dainty in the Country_ _Dorothy Dainty's Winter_ _Dorothy Dainty in the Mountains_ _Dorothy Dainty's Holidays_ _Dorothy Dainty's Vacation_

"LITTLE DOROTHY DAINTY is one of the most generous-hearted of children. Selfishness is not at all a trait of hers, and she knows the value of making sunshine, not alone in her own heart, but for her neighborhood and friends."--_Boston Courier._

"DOROTHY DAINTY, a little girl, the only child of wealthy parents, is an exceedingly interesting character, and her earnest and interesting life is full of action and suitable adventure."--_Pittsburg Christian Advocate._

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CUNNING little Prue, one of the most winsome little girls ever "put in a book," has already been met in another series where she gave no small part of the interest. She well deserved books of her own for little girls of her age, and they are now ready with everything in the way of large, clear type, and Miss Brooks's best pictures and her pleasing cover designs to make them attractive.

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The progress of the "Randy Books" has been one continual triumph over the hearts of girls of all ages, for dear little fun-loving sister Prue is almost as much a central figure as Randy, growing toward womanhood with each book. The sterling good sense and simple naturalness of Randy, and the total absence of slang and viciousness, make these books in the highest degree commendable, while abundant life is supplied by the doings of merry friends, and there is rich humor in the droll rural characters.

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IN this book little Winifred Hamilton, the child heroine of "Winifred's Neighbors," reappears, living in the second of the four stories of a New York apartment house. On the top floor are two very interesting children, Betty, a little older than Winifred, who is now ten, and Jack, a brave little cripple, who is a year younger. In the end comes a glad reunion, and also other good fortune for crippled Jack, and Winifred's kind little heart has once more indirectly caused great happiness to others.

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ROSAMOND lives in Richmond, Va., with her big brother, who cannot give her all the comfort that she needs in the trying hot weather, and she goes to the seaside cottage of an uncle whose home is in New York. Here she meets Gladys and Joy, so well known in a previous book, "The Little Girl Next Door," and after some complications are straightened out, bringing Rosamond's honesty and kindness of heart into prominence, all are made very happy.

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"_Brick House Books_"

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=Priscilla of the Doll Shop=

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=The Other Sylvia=

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* * * * *

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* * * * *

Transcriber's Notes:

Obvious punctuation errors repaired.

End of Project Gutenberg's Dorothy Dainty at the Mountains, by Amy Brooks