CHAPTER XIX

THICK ICE AND THIN

The owner of the voice on the telephone had appeared in less than a minute in the person of Bob, and before greetings were over the Major, with Nat, Roger and Joe, appeared, and there was a grand reunion.

When the boys took Bob off to see New York, the girls retired.

“Does it really seem possible that a few days ago we were country school girls?” mused Dorothy, as she and Tavia lay wide awake the next morning, waiting for the breakfast bell to ring. Tavia had succeeded in convincing Dorothy that on a holiday trip, one should never get up until two minutes before breakfast was served, and then to scramble madly to reach the table in time. This, Tavia, contended, was the only real way of knowing it was a holiday.

“I feel as much a part of New York City as any of the natives might,” answered Tavia. “And there are such stacks of places we must yet explore.”

“How different we will make Miss Mingle’s days, after we all return to the Glen,” Dorothy said. “We’ll elect her one of our club, the noble little thing!”

“I feel like the most selfish of mortals in comparison,” replied Tavia. “Such goodness as hers is not common, I’m sure.”

A jingling of musical bells announced breakfast, and to further impress the fact upon the family, every young person banged on the other one’s bedroom door, and the noise for a few minutes was deafening.

“Now, Tavia, please,” pleaded Dorothy, as she hurriedly dressed, “don’t act so to Bob! You were so contrary last evening!”

“Can’t help it,” declared Tavia. “He inspires contrariness! He’s so easy to tease!”

During the meal Tavia kept perfectly quiet, her eyes modestly downcast, and Dorothy watched her with great misgivings. Tavia was beginning the day entirely too modestly.

Another hour found the whole party on the banks of the lake in Central Park. The ice was in fine condition, and the lake as crowded as every spot in New York always seemed to be.

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten the figure eight,” said Major Dale, with a laugh, as he struck out. Aunt Winnie watched him anxiously because she had less confidence in his recovery than did the major. It was great fun for Roger and Joe to skate with their father.

“Girls,” said Aunt Winnie, as she tried bravely to balance herself, “I’m really not as young as I think I am! I believe I’ll return to the car, bundle up in the fur robes and just watch.”

The girls begged her to remain. Nat and Bob, after a long run to the end of the lake, had returned, and Nat grasped Aunt Winnie suddenly. Together they started up the lake, Aunt Winnie skating as gracefully as any of the young girls. Ned was tightening Dorothy’s skates as Bob approached Tavia.

“Weren’t you surprised to see me yesterday?” Bob wanted to know. “You didn’t think I would come; did you?”

“I’ve been so busy, I don’t know what I really have been thinking,” was Tavia’s non-committal answer.

“But did you?” persisted Bob, anxious to know whether Tavia had thought of him during her holiday. Tavia knew that he was anxious.

“I hardly think I’ve thought much,” she answered, as she did some fancy skating, just eluding Bob and Nat as they tried to catch her.

Dorothy complained to Tavia: “Isn’t it horrid the way people gather around just because two country girls can do a few fancy strokes on the ice!”

“It’s embarrassing to say the least,” replied Tavia, still dizzily whirling about. “I’m glad, aren’t you, that the rules for city park lakes forbid small gatherings on the ice? The guard has broken up each little group that has threatened to intrude on our privacy.”

“Let them watch!” said Ned. “We’ll give the city chaps some fine points on how to get over the ice!”

“Most of the girls seem to enjoy just standing still in the cold,” said Bob, with a laugh.

“I know that girl with the bright red skating cap just bought skates because she had a skating cap; she can’t move on the ice,” said Dorothy.

A tall man, with heavy gray hair and a fur overcoat, was skating near by, and he watched Tavia constantly. Dorothy noticed him and wondered at his persistence in keeping near their party. Tavia, however, was too deeply enraptured with her own antics on the ice, to pay attention to the mere onlookers.

Nat and Dorothy challenged Bob and Tavia to a race to the end and back in a given time, and a strong breeze carried them swiftly down the lake. As they disappeared from sight, the tall stranger in the fur coat plainly noticed Mrs. White and the major, who stood watching the young people sail away down the lake.

It was Mr. Akerson.

“For once in my career I’ve made some kind of a mistake,” he muttered to himself. “It was an inspiration to try to meet that pretty red-haired girl again, and by Jove! the knowledge gained was worth the effort! Now which one is she; the niece or the niece’s chum?” he mused as his car sped through the park, for he had soon tired of the ice.

“Well,” he said, with a laugh, “the little red-haired lass is not yet through with Mr. Akerson.”

Before his car had reached the park entrance, another car passed him, containing Mrs. White and Major Dale homeward bound, the young people having decided to remain on the ice until lunch.

Tavia had kept Bob just dancing whither her will o’ the wisp mood might lead. Finally it led the whole party up to the man who sold hot coffee and sandwiches.

“This is the first really sensible move Tavia’s made to-day,” commented Nat, as his teeth sank into a sandwich. The steaming coffee trickled down the throats of the party accompanied by various comments, but no one, except Dorothy, noticed a little lad, followed by a yellow dog, who stood hungrily watching the steaming cups. He was the typical urchin of the streets of New York City, who had wandered from goodness knows where among the East side tenements, to bask in the sunlight of Central Park. His hands were dug deep into his ragged trousers, and his dirty little face sank into the collar of a very large coat.

“Is dat orful hot?” he asked with interest, as Dorothy daintily drained her coffee cup.

“Are you cold?” she asked, kindly.

“Naw,” he answered, in great disgust, “I ain’t never cold, but the dawg is. Say, lady, could yer guv the dawg a hot drink o’ dat stuff?”

“Dogs can’t drink coffee,” said Dorothy with a smile, “but you must have some.”

The boy slipped behind the dog and smiled wistfully at the coffee urns.

“Naw,” he said, “I don’t want none.” But the hunger in his eyes was not to be denied by his brave little lips, and while Tavia and the boys made merry at the lunch counter, Dorothy quietly ordered coffee and sandwiches for the thin little boy. And he drank, and ate, every bit, insisting on sharing many mouthfuls with the yellow dog.

He stayed with the party, wandering up and down the banks of the lake, until they were ready to depart, and then he followed at a respectful distance as they walked across town to Riverside Drive. He had nothing else to do, and the lady with the fluffy hair was kind and good to look at, and as his whole life was spent on the streets, he carelessly followed along until they reached home. Turning, Dorothy saw him, and something in the little face went straight to her heart. He did not look at all like her own little brothers, there was only the small boy manliness about him that, somehow, reminded her of Joe, and smiling encouragement for him to follow, he did so, until the porter stopped him in the apartment hall.

“It’s all right,” said Dorothy, in a low voice, “he’s with us.”

“What are you going to do with him?” asked Tavia, as they piled on the elevator.

“Feed him all the things his little stomach has ever yearned for,” declared Dorothy. “I’ve seen so many of him about the streets, and now I’m going to try and make one happy, for just a day!”

The little thin boy being enthroned in the kitchenette with the yellow dog sprawled out on the floor, Dorothy returned to Tavia and the boys.

“Why did not I see that little boy?” asked Tavia, soberly.

“Because,” said Bob gently, “you were ministering to the enjoyment and success of the skating party.”

“Huh!” said Tavia, in disdain. “Dorothy is the most perfect darling! Who else would have looked about for someone to bestow kindnesses upon? I’m going right out to the little boy and—and help entertain him.” And in deep repentance Tavia strode out to the kitchenette, to make up to the thin boy whom she would have passed by if Dorothy had not been kind to him.

Soon the boys stood outside the door listening to Tavia patiently trying to say the very nicest things!

At Ned’s suggestion, that a little practice on Tavia’s part, in saying nice things, should by no means be interrupted, they rushed to the drawing room, and Dorothy played the piano while the boys sang. Dorothy finally jumped up, with her fingers in her ears, and declared she was becoming deaf, so Nat immediately sat down on the piano stool, and the singing continued.

Aunt Winnie looked in for a moment and begged the bass to try to sing tenor! And even the very boyish major closed his door to shut out the hideous sounds. But nothing disturbed Tavia, who was bent on making up to little Tommy.