CHAPTER III

AN AFTERNOON CALL

DOLLY worried a good deal over her teacher’s illness, and when Miss Partland was not at school the next day, she decided to go to see her, on the way home. The boys tried to dissuade her, but Dolly was firm.

“No use trying to steer off Dolly Fayre, if she’s made up her mind,” said Lollie Henry. “If she has a bee in her bonnet, she sticks to it like a puppy to a root.”

They all laughed at this, but Dotty said, earnestly, “Don’t go, Doll; you’ll have to tell on the boys and girls, and that will be awful mean.”

“No, I won’t. I’ve a plan of my own, and I won’t say a word about your playing a joke, or anything about any of you. But I do think, Lollie, and you Tad and Tod too, that it’s a mean, horrid thing to play practical jokes, and I think you _ought_ to be told on,—but I won’t tell on you.”

“Ah, now, Dolly, Towhead Dolly, don’t be hard on us,” said Tad, in such a wheedlesome way that Dolly had to laugh. “We didn’t mean any real harm, and she _has_ been awfully cross to us, and we’re not such angels of goodness as you are—”

“I’m not an angel of goodness, Tad Brown, and I’ll thank you to stop making fun of me! But I do believe in being decent to a teacher, even if she is strict in her rules.”

“Come on, Dolly,” said Dotty, as they neared the street where Miss Partland lived; “if you’re going, I’ll go with you.”

“Oh, ho!” jeered Lollie, “_two_ little angels of goodness, little white angels, with shiny wings! Well, fly into old Party’s house, and see what’s the matter with her,—mumps or measles!”

The two girls went to the house, and were invited to go up to the teacher’s room.

They found Miss Partland, sitting in an easy chair, looking disconsolate indeed.

“How do you do, girls?” she said, listlessly; “won’t you sit down?”

The two D’s sat down, and Dolly said, at once, “Oh, I’m glad to see you looking so much better, Miss Partland! You’re not really ill, are you?”

“I don’t know, Dolly,” and the poor lady looked sadly distraught. She was not an interesting invalid in appearance. She had on an old grey flannel wrapper, and her hair was untidy. A bowl of broth, cold,—and one or two bottles were on her table, and the whole room had an unkempt, uncared-for air. “You see,” she went on, “I didn’t know I had heart trouble, and it worries me terribly.”

“Do you know it yet?” asked Dolly. “Have you had a doctor?”

“I’ve sent for him, but he hasn’t come yet. But several people have called or telephoned, and they all speak of my heart attack, so I think it must have been that.”

Dotty looked very serious, and blushed a little as she realised to what a pass their thoughtless joke had brought the teacher.

“Miss Partland,” Dolly went on. “I don’t believe it was your heart, or you’d be sicker now. You don’t feel bad, do you?”

“N-no,—I guess not,—I can hardly tell.”

“Well, you look real well to me—”

“Oh, do I? I’m glad to hear you say so. I thought myself, if it were anything serious, I’d feel worse than I do. I haven’t any real pain, you know.”

“That’s good; and I believe all you want is to brace up and forget it. Forget that little bother of yesterday, I mean.”

“Say, Miss Partland,” broke in Dotty, “won’t you let me do your hair in a new way that I’ve just tried on mother’s? I often do her hair for her, and she says it rests her a lot. And this new way—”

“Mercy, child, I never had anybody touch my hair in my life!”

“Then you don’t know how it helps. Just let me try. Where’s your comb? and hairpins? Oh, here they are. No, don’t face the mirror, I want you to be surprised.”

Dotty bustled around, and almost before Miss Partland knew it, she was having her hair dressed by the skilful little hands. The hair was not long or luxurious, but it was of fine texture, and when released from the tight little knob it was wound in, proved slightly wavy. Dot made the most of it, and drawing it up in a soft French twist, she puffed it out at the sides, and made a most becoming and transforming coiffure.

“There!” she said, “you’re real pretty now, and I’d like to see anybody say you look sick!”

Miss Partland looked in the glass and was astounded. The unwonted performance had brought the colour to her cheeks, and interest to her eyes, and when she saw the whole effect in the mirror, she fairly beamed with delight.

“Now, haven’t you a nicer kimono, or dressing gown? This isn’t very pretty for afternoon, and the doctor coming and all.”

Miss Partland looked amazed. “I never thought about it,” she said; “I haven’t any other,—or, that is—yes, I have one my sister sent me for Christmas, but I’ve never worn it. It’s too nice.”

“Mayn’t we see it?”

Miss Partland went to the closet and brought out a big box. From it she took a beautiful Japanese kimono of pale blue silk, embroidered with pink chrysanthemums.

“There,” she said, “you see I couldn’t wear that.”

“Why not?” cried Dolly. “It’s lovely! And it just suits your blonde colouring.”

This was stretching the point a little, for Miss Partland’s blondeness was of the type known as ash, and her faded complexion and dull light blue eyes hardly deserved the name of colouring.

But Dolly was sincere, and she meant to make the most of what little natural vanity the lady possessed.

“Yes, indeed,” chimed in Dotty. “That’s too pretty to be buried in an old dark closet! Put it on, quick, before the doctor gets here!”

A little bewildered, Miss Partland hurried into the robe, and the girls were astounded at the becomingness of it.

“Well, well!” cried Dotty. “Try our plans, and you will be surprised at the result! Why, Miss Partland, you’re a hummer! A regular peach! Isn’t she, Doll?”

“Yes-sir-ee!” And Dolly patted the blue silk approvingly. Then they wound the blue sash, that belonged to the robe, round about her, and tucked the ends in in Chinese fashion.

“You must put that on every day after school,” said Dotty, “it’s lovely on you.”

“But it’s too nice. I never dreamed of wearing it—”

“No matter, just you wear it, and when it’s worn out I ’spect sister’ll give you another.”

“Of course she would, she’s awfully fond of me.”

“She’d be fonder, if she could see you now. Clothes make a heap of difference,” and Dotty nodded her head sagely. “My goodness, here’s the doctor! I hear his automobile stopping. Yes, it is,” as she peeped from the window. “Shall we go home, Miss Partland?”

“No, just go in the next room, and after he’s gone, I’ll tell you what he said.”

“Oh, thank you, I do want to know,” said Dolly, and the two ran into the next room and shut the door.

A little time later, Miss Partland opened the door and summoned them. She was smiling and so happy looking that she was almost pretty,—a word rarely used in connection with the Geometry teacher.

“Come in, girls,” she said. “The doctor says I have no heart trouble of any sort, and that I am as sound as a dollar!”

“Did he say what ailed you yesterday?”

“He said I was probably nervous over some trifle, but he said it had left no trace, for my nerves are all right now. And, what do you think? He said that as I had enough interest in life to take some pains with my toilette, I was in no danger of nervous prostration! And just think! Before you two came in, I was wondering whether I’d better go to a sanitarium!”

“Oh, Miss Partland! Not really!”

“Yes, really. I thought my whole nervous system was shattered. Everybody said I looked so ill, and they gave me such commiserating glances—”

“Well, they won’t any more,” interrupted Dotty, who was cut to the soul by these remarks. Well she knew whose suggestions and whose glances had brought about the sad state of things.

“And now,” said practical Dolly, “I’m going to straighten up this room a little. You may have more callers.”

She whisked away the bowl and bottles into the bathroom. She straightened the shades, dusted a little, and with a few deft touches here and there, she made the room tidy and neat. She found a glass vase which she washed, and setting it on the table, said, “We must go now, Miss Partland, but I’m going to send you a few flowers, and I want you to put them in this vase, and set them right here on the table, will you?”

“Indeed I will, you dear child. You’re dear little girls, both, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you for your pleasant call. I can’t promise to wear this elaborate gown every day, but I will buy myself one that is more presentable than the one I had on when you came.”

“And have it pretty, Miss Partland,” begged Dolly; “pretty things keep you from getting sick.”

“I wonder if they do, you little rascal; how do you know?”

“Well, maybe they wouldn’t keep you from getting chicken pox, they didn’t me, but I’m just sure they’re good for nervous prostration.”

“I shouldn’t wonder a bit,” and Miss Partland smiled brightly as she bade the girls good-bye.

“Now I’m going to get her some flowers,” said Dolly as they reached the street. “I haven’t much left of my allowance, but I can get her half a dozen carnations or two roses. Which would you, Dot?”

“Carnations, I guess. They last longer. I’m going to get her a couple of fruits. Say, a grapefruit and an orange, how’s that?”

“Fine! I’m glad you thought of it. It’ll cheer her a lot. I say, Dot, we did do her some good.”

“I should say we did! But it was all your doing, I just went along.”

“Nonsense! You did as much as I did. Why, I don’t know how you ever thought of fussing up her hair! It was just the thing, but it never would have occurred to me.”

“I dunno myself how I happened to think of it. But her old head looked so frowsy and untidy, I wanted to see if it would make a difference. And it did!”

“I should say so! Here’s the fruit store. Going in?”

“Yes, come on.”

They went in, and Dotty made a judicious selection of two oranges and a bunch of white grapes, as they were not sure Miss Partland cared for grapefruit.

“And if any one _doesn’t_ like it,” said Dotty, making a wry face, “they don’t like it all over! _I_ can’t abide it!”

“I love it,” returned Dolly, “but as you say, Dot, if people don’t like it they don’t. Grapes are much safer. Now, come on to the flower shop.”

A half dozen carnations of an exquisite shade were available for the money Dolly had, and it was with great satisfaction she saw them put in a box and sent off at once to Miss Partland.

“I say, Dolly, you’re an awful trump!” declared Dotty, as they walked along. “I never should have thought of going to fix things up with old Party. And now, I’m awful glad we did. Why is it, you always have these good thinks and I never do?”

“I dunno. Sometimes it makes me mad though when the boys call me goody-goody. And Celia Ferris said I was a spoilsport. That isn’t very nice to be called, Dot, is it?”

“No; but you always come out all right. You see, I’m full of the dickens, and when the boys want me to cut up jinks, I go into it head over heels without thinking. You hesitate, and think it over and then you do the right thing.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes I think maybe I _am_ an old Primmy, as Tad calls me. Hello, here’s Tad now.”

Tad Brown met them as he came flying round a corner, closely followed by his twin brother Tod.

“Hello, girls,” Tad called out. “Been to old Party’s? How is she?”

“She’s all right,” and Dolly laughed gaily. “She’s had the doctor and he says her heart’s sound as a dollar. So you see your old joke didn’t hurt her, after all.”

“But it would have,” put in Dotty, “if Doll hadn’t gone there and chirked her up, and told her she wasn’t sick at all.”

“You went too,” said Dolly, laughing.

“Oh, ’course. Whithersoever thou goest, theresoever will I also went. And say, boys, you’ve got to be gooder’n pie to-morrow, and every day, to make up to old Party for your badness. She’s a funny old thing, but she’s nice, and since I’ve seen her at home, I feel different toward her, more intimate like and sorry for her.”

“All right,” said Tad, heartily. “I’m ready to be good. I’m pretty well ashamed of that old joke business, since it turned out so badly.”

“Me, too,” and Tod shook his head. “I thought it was funny at first, but it didn’t pan out well. I’ll never play another joke on anybody! any way, not till the next time. Going to the High School Dance, girls?”

“Yes, indeedy!” and Dolly’s eyes glistened. “Won’t it be fun? It is the first time I’ve ever been to an evening party.”

“Go with me?” and Tod paused in the street, and swept his best dancing-school bow.

“Gracious, I don’t know,” said Dolly, overcome at this sudden grown-upness. “I don’t believe mother will let me go with a boy.”

“Oh, yes, she will,” said Tad. “Just to a school dance. You go with Tod, Dolly; and, Dot, you go with me, and then we’ll be all in the same boat.”

“I’d like to,” said Dolly, “but I’m sure mother won’t let me. What do you think, Dot?”

“I think my mother will muchly object at first, but I think I can coax her into it.”

“Why, all the girls will go with the boys,” said Tad eagerly. “They always do. You see our bunch has never been in High School before, and when we’re in Rome we must do as the Turkeys do.”

“Who is going with who else, that you know of?”

“Oh, Celia Ferris is going with Lollie Henry, and Joe Collins—”

“Well, what about Joe Collins?” asked Dolly.

“Oh, nothin’.”

“Yes, there is, too; what made you stop short?”

“Well, if you must know, he said he was going to ask you.”

“Oh, do you boys talk it all over,—about who you’ll take, I mean?”

“Sure we do,” said Tod, grinning. “I gave Joe my new knife if he’d let me ask you first.”

“You didn’t!” and Dolly looked shocked.

“No, of course he didn’t!” said Tad. “Don’t you let him fool you, Dolly.”

The quartette had walked along to the Fayres’ house, and the boys wanted to go in and see how the house was coming on. But Dolly wouldn’t allow this, as she said she must study her lessons.

“And you must all go home and study,” she said shaking her golden head at them. “I want you to have good lessons to-morrow, and cheer Miss Party up.”

“I’ll tell her she’s looking blooming,” said Tad, laughing over his shoulder as he went away.

“I’ll tell her she’s a perfect peach!” declared Tod, and then with gay good-byes they parted.