Raymond Evelyn
Dorothy's Triumph
CHAPTER XII
MR. LUDLOW’S OFFER
The holidays passed all too quickly to the happy party at Old Bellvieu. Herr and Frau Deichenberg came no more during the stay of the Judge and Molly, but Gerald and Aurora were over nearly every evening.
One night, toward the close of the week, Aunt Betty and the Judge chaperoned a party of young people, including Dorothy, Molly, Aurora, Gerald, Jim and Len to the theater, where one of the reigning comic opera successes was on view. It was an imported piece of the “Merry Widow” type, and everyone enjoyed it to the utmost. Aunt Betty and the Judge found their risibilities thoroughly shaken by the antics of the star, a comedian of prominence, while the tastes of the young people seemed to incline toward the bright chorus numbers, and the individual songs and duets.
Len was perhaps the most joyous member of the party. It was his first experience at the theater, and the elaborate stage settings, the bright lights, and the catchy music had opened to him the gates of Fairyland, as it were.
When one of the characters cracked a joke, and the comedian replied that he was very fond of walnuts and hickory nuts, but not at all partial to chestnuts, Len nearly fell out of his seat, and the young lady who followed them on the stage was well through her song before he controlled his laughter enough to realize what was going on.
Len’s merriment so pleased Aunt Betty and Judge Breckenridge that they, too, burst into laughter, which continued until a whispered “Sh!” from Dorothy warned them that they were attracting the attention of others in the theater. Then the Judge put his finger to his lips and looked solemnly at Len and Aunt Betty, whereupon the trio instantly became sober, and turned their attention again to the stage.
After the theater the Judge insisted on treating the party to hot chocolate and cake, so they were led to a popular resort often frequented during the days by Dorothy and Aurora. This served to round off a very pleasant evening, and as there was nothing to prevent each member of the party from sleeping late the following morning, their happiness was complete.
So urgently did Aunt Betty and Dorothy beg Molly and the Judge to spend the early part of January with them, that the Judge consented, greatly to Molly’s delight.
“Business really demands my attention in New York,” he said, “but I suppose that can wait another week. We don’t have times like this every year, do we Molly, girl?”
“Indeed, no,” responded the person addressed.
“But it will not be my fault hereafter, if you do not have them each year,” said Aunt Betty. “I hereby issue a standing invitation for you both to spend the next holiday season with us, and the next, and the next, and so on, and next year, Judge, you must bring your sister Lucretia. It was an oversight on my part in not inviting her on this occasion.”
“Lucretia has been very busy doing some settlement work, and Christmas is her busy time, hence, she would have been unable to accept your kind invitation. Next year, however, things may have changed. If so, we shall certainly bring her with us.”
There followed a succession of trips to nearby points of interest. The snow, which lay thick during the holidays, began to melt soon after the new year dawned, and, the roads drying hard, Gerald came over one day in the auto and took them for a jaunt in the country.
A fishing excursion to the shores of the bay on another day, with Jim and Ephraim as the pilots, served to demonstrate to the Judge that he was every bit as good a fisherman as he had been in the early days, for he caught eight speckled sea-trout, and three red-fish – a better record than was made by any other member of the party.
Finally, the Judge and Molly took their departure, the former declaring that the duties in New York had become imperative ones. Dorothy hated to lose her chum again, they saw each other so seldom, but agreed with Molly that the latter must spend some time in her own home.
Then, as February passed, and the winds of March began to make themselves felt, things settled down to their usual routine at Bellvieu.
Dorothy, who had resumed her lessons immediately upon Molly’s departure, was fast approaching a point where, Herr Deichenberg declared, she would be able to appear before an audience in the most critical of musical centers. He advised that she immediately seek the opportunity, or allow him to seek one for her.
Again Aunt Betty interposed a mild objection, and the music master, with a sly wink at Dorothy, observed under his breath:
“Just leave it to me.”
This Dorothy did, and with good results, as will be seen.
She dropped the subject entirely when Aunt Betty was around, resolved to wait until the psychological moment arrived to again broach the matter, or until she heard further from Herr Deichenberg.
Two weeks passed and finally Herr Deichenberg came out to the house one morning with Mr. Ludlow, whom he presented to Aunt Betty.
At first the mistress of Bellvieu was inclined to receive the theatrical man coldly, believing he had come to entice her niece away, but gradually, under Herr Deichenberg’s careful urging, she began to see matters in a new light.
“Mr. Ludlow has no desire to take Miss Dorothy avay from you,” said the Herr, earnestly. “Please believe me vhen I tell you. Also believe me vhen I say dat all of Miss Dorothy’s lessons vill go for naught, if she does not seek a time und place to exploit her talents. There is open for her a career of great prominence – of dat I am very sure, but to attain de pinnacle of success, she must first go a few steps above de middle rounds of de ladder. Mr. Ludlow has a good proposition to make to her, und one dat meets with my hearty approval. I beg of you, Mrs. Calvert, listen carefully to vhat he has to say, und deliberate before you give him an answer.”
“If Dorothy’s welfare is at stake I shall listen, of course; I should have listened, anyway, but with some prejudice, I will admit. I cannot see where it will do my niece any great good to become a stage celebrity, but if Mr. Ludlow can convince me, I stand ready to acknowledge my error.”
“I am sure that is fair enough,” said Mr. Ludlow, smiling genially. He had a pleasant personality – refined, even striking in the more serious moments, and Aunt Betty felt attracted to him the instant he began to speak.
“A career for your niece, Mrs. Calvert – a professional career – under proper management, is distinctly the proper thing for her. I heard her play at Herr Deichenberg’s concert here last fall, and knew at once that she had an exceptional amount of talent, which, if fostered, under the Herr’s careful methods, would make of her one of the musical wonders of the age. It was then I made my offer – which was merely a tentative one – to Miss Calvert, not meaning to in any way override your authority, but merely for the purpose of sounding her out and winning a promise that she would give me an option on her services, provided she decided to adopt the concert stage as a career.”
“She told me of her conversation with you,” returned Aunt Betty, “and I am free to admit that I was prejudiced against it.”
“You were also prejudiced against riding fast in Gerald’s automobile, auntie,” said Dorothy, smiling. “But Gerald overcame that just as Mr. Ludlow is going to try to overcome this.”
“From speeding in an automobile, to adopting the concert stage as a career, is a far cry, my dear,” returned Aunt Betty, rather severely, Dorothy thought.
Had she known what was passing in her relative’s mind, however, the girl would not for a moment have condemned her. Had she known, for instance, that Aunt Betty’s prejudice against the stage as a career was not at the bottom of her refusal, but the fact that she feared Dorothy would be taken away from her in her old age, just when she had found her a second time, and learned to know and love her, she would have immediately thrown her arms around Aunt Betty’s neck and making no comment have kissed her affectionately.
“Of course, I do not know the state of your finances, nor would I be so presuming as to inquire,” Mr. Ludlow went on, “but it may interest you to know that if Miss Dorothy goes on the concert stage it will mean quite a tidy sum of money for her – and money, I am sure, will always prove a handy asset to have around. So, both artistically and financially, it seems the proper thing for her to do.”
“But I have heard that girls on the stage are exposed to many temptations,” protested Aunt Betty, who felt the ground slipping from under her arguments. Realizing, as she did, that it was Dorothy’s wish that she give the concert stage a trial, she was inclined to be lenient.
“A wrong impression, madame – an entirely wrong impression,” said Mr. Ludlow, emphatically. “There are temptations in stage life, yes; but so there are in other professions, and he or she who falters will find their steps to be hard ones, no matter who they are or where they be. Force of character rules on the stage, Mrs. Calvert, just as it does in every other walk of life. Thus it is that the theatrical profession shelters some of the smartest, most wonderful women the world has ever known. Because a few notoriety seekers have caused the finger of scorn to be pointed at an honorable profession, just as one dishonest employé can, and frequently does, cause a whole institution to be looked at with suspicion, should the dramatic profession, as a whole, be made to suffer? I ask you this in all fairness, madame, and await your answer.”
“Well, really, I hadn’t considered it in that light,” said Aunt Betty, slowly, deliberately. “I believe you are right, Mr. Ludlow, and I thank you sincerely for changing my viewpoint. Ever since I saw that great play, ‘The Music Master,’ with David Warfield in the part of Herr von Barwig, I have wondered if the theatrical profession was wholly a bad one. Now, I think I understand.”
“I am glad it remained for me to tell you, Mrs. Calvert.”
“And if my niece sees fit to arrange with you for a metropolitan appearance, and you feel that it will be a great triumph for her, I shall certainly not stand in the way.”
“Oh, you dear, good auntie!” Dorothy cried, throwing her arms about Mrs. Calvert’s neck and giving her a resounding kiss. “I shall thank you all my life for those few words.”
“Mrs. Calvert, you have made a very sensible decision,” Herr Deichenberg remarked with no little degree of satisfaction. “Believe me, I know vhat I say iss true. Und now, if you vill please allow Mr. Ludlow to make some necessary arrangements before he takes his leave, it vill greatly facilitate matters.”
Aunt Betty quickly assented, and turning to Dorothy, Mr. Ludlow said:
“What I wish is for you to appear at a preliminary concert in New York City, at a date yet to be decided upon. You will be under the watchful eye of your music master, and the affair will be given under his auspices. You will, perhaps, have some prominent vocalist to help you fill in the evening’s entertainment. I wish to know if this will be agreeable?”
“Yes, if the date is not too soon,” the girl replied.
“As to that, we shall suit your pleasure, so it occurs before warm weather sets in.”
“It need not be later than the first of May.”
“Then please sign this contract. I have drawn it up with the approval of Herr Deichenberg, but before attaching your name, I will ask you to read it and be sure you thoroughly understand it.”
“Perhaps my lawyers might – ” Aunt Betty began.
Herr Deichenberg raised his hand in dissent.
“Madame, it iss unnecessary. I am familiar with every form of contract und I say to you dat de one offered your niece by Mr. Ludlow is equitable and just, and can only be to her advantage.”
“We will take your word, of course,” replied Aunt Betty. “The only reason I spoke is that neither Dorothy or myself is well versed in contracts of any sort.”
“The very reason why I prepared the contract after suggestions offered by Herr Deichenberg,” said Mr. Ludlow with a good-natured smile.
“Oh, Aunt Betty!” cried Dorothy, as she read the document, “for one appearance in New York, I am to receive one hundred dollars and my expenses both ways. I think that is a very liberal offer.”
“Merely a pittance, Miss Calvert, beside what you will get if your concert pleases the music lovers of the metropolis, who, as you are no doubt aware, are the most discriminating in the country.”
“Oh, I hope I shall please them. I shall try so hard.”
“You just leave dat to me,” said Herr Deichenberg. “Any young lady who played as you did at my concert, need have no fear of facing a metropolitan audience.”
“The plan is, Miss Calvert,” Mr. Ludlow went on, in a thoroughly business-like tone, “if your New York concert proves a success, for you to sign contracts to appear next season under my management in the principal cities of the country. When we know positively that this is advisable, we will discuss terms, and I assure you we shall not quarrel over the matter of a few dollars, more or less.”
“I’m sure we won’t,” replied Dorothy.
Aunt Betty found herself hoping for the success of the plan. All opposition to the matter seemed, for the time, to have slipped her mind.
Mr. Ludlow bade them good-by shortly after, and left in company with Herr Deichenberg.
Dorothy closed the door softly behind them, then, happy that her ambition was at last to become a reality, threw herself in the arms of Aunt Betty and sobbed:
“Oh, auntie, auntie, it has come at last, but it won’t – it won’t take me away from you.”
“We must not be too sure of that, my dear,” Aunt Betty replied, as calmly as she could. Her wildly-beating heart cried out for the love and sympathy that she knew only this girl could give her. How could she ever, ever bear to give her up?
“Auntie, dear,” Dorothy said, straightening up and wiping her eyes with quick, nervous little dabs, “if such a thing as separation is even suggested, I shall never move a step from old Bellvieu – never, never!”
“Oh, my dear, I cannot expect you to give up a great career for me.”
“What would any sort of a career be without you? Nothing – absolutely nothing! I wouldn’t listen to it for a moment. Where I go there you shall go also.”
“But I am getting too old to travel.”
Aunt Betty’s protest, however, sounded rather feeble.
“Nonsense!” the girl replied. “You were the very life of our camping party, and I’m sure riding in railroad trains is not half so strenuous as speeding forty miles an hour over country roads in an automobile. No objections, now, auntie dear, unless you want me to give up my career before it is begun.”
“No, no, of course, I – ”
“Of course you don’t want me to do that. Certainly not. For that very reason, if for no other, you are going to accompany me wherever I go, which means that you may as well start planning that new spring dress, for we will be traveling New Yorkward ere many weeks have passed.”
“Do you think blue would be becoming, dear?”
Dorothy could have laughed outright with delight, when she saw how quickly Aunt Betty became lost in contemplation over what she should wear on the trip.
“Well, yes, if it is of the proper shade, auntie, but you know nothing becomes you so well as black.”
“Black it shall be, then – black panama, with a nice new bonnet to match.”
“And I, auntie, dear, what shall I wear? How are we to afford all these fine things when our finances are at a low ebb?”
“Our finances are in better condition than they were, dear. A letter a few days since from my lawyers, states that certain property I have placed in their hands is rapidly increasing in value, and that I shall be able to realize from time to time such sums as I may need.”
“Oh, I’m so glad! Strange you didn’t tell me.”
“I’d forgotten it. I really believe I am getting absent-minded.”
Had Dorothy known the truth – that though the lawyers had agreed to advance certain sums, it meant a mortgage on old Bellvieu, her peace of mind would have been sadly disturbed.
But Aunt Betty took good care she did not know it – self-sacrificing soul that she was.
CHAPTER XIII
IN THE METROPOLIS
New York!
A magic word to Dorothy Calvert, and as she stepped from the train in the great Pennsylvania railway station, curiosity and interest were expressed in her glance. Not since her trip to California with Aunt Betty and Ephraim had the girl been in Gay Gotham, which, to her, had always been a place of great enchantment.
The noise of the trains, the clangor of trucks, as they were whirled up and down the station platform by the baggagemen; the noise of the subway and surface cars, mingled with countless other sounds, were sufficient to distract any girl’s attention, and Dorothy came out of her reverie and turned, only when Aunt Betty cried out from the car steps:
“Dorothy Calvert, wherever are you going?”
“Oh, I – ”
“Are you going to leave me behind?”
“I – I – why, auntie – I – ”
“One would think you had never been in a great city before. Wait for me! Remember, I am going everywhere you go. You did not bring me this far from Bellvieu to leave me in the lurch, young lady.”
“Goodness knows, I had no idea of doing anything of the sort, auntie.”
“Well, you just wait! I’m not as spry as I used to be.”
Jim Barlow carefully helped Aunt Betty to the platform, while Ephraim followed with a load of suit cases. Then came Herr and Frau Deichenberg, each with a little hand satchel, the professor guarding jealously his beloved violin. No heavy luggage for the Deichenbergs, the Frau had told Aunt Betty on the journey up from Baltimore.
“Ve shan’t be here for long; de concert occurs to-morrow night, und ve shall go straight back home vhen ve are t’rough,” was the way she put it.
The Herr was attired in his customary black. He had maintained his usual phlegmatic manner all through the journey, and apparently had no intention of departing from it now. Having spent many years in New York after his arrival in America, the city’s fascination for the average mortal seemed to make no appeal to him.
Once off the train, Jim began to search diligently in the crowd for a familiar face. For a moment a blank look expressed his disappointment. Then his features lighted up and he waved his hand at a tall, spectacled gentleman who came eagerly forward to meet him.
“Jim, I am glad to see you,” greeted this individual.
“And I to see you, Dr. Sterling.”
A hearty hand-clasp followed.
“Why it is Dr. Sterling!” cried Aunt Betty, adjusting her glasses that she might better see him. “How good it seems to find you here in New York. How did you leave things up the Hudson, and especially at Deerhurst?”
“Same as of yore,” he replied. “Hans and Griselda, faithful souls, are keeping the place in spick and span condition.” His face lighted suddenly. “And here is Miss Dorothy, grown into a tall young lady since last I saw her.”
“Don’t accuse me of being too tall, Dr. Sterling,” said Dorothy, in a tone of mild reproof. “That is getting to be a sore subject with me. I have no intention of being either a toothpick or a beanstalk, though if what my friends tell me is true, I am in a fair way to be either, or both.”
Dr. Sterling laughed.
“You mustn’t mind a bit of a joke, you know. You are at an age where nothing can stop your growth. Your height seems to you exaggerated – that’s all – and your friends merely perpetuate the belief with the idea of teasing you.”
“I’ll take your word for that, doctor. And now, let me present my music teacher, Herr Deichenberg, and Mrs. Deichenberg,” Dorothy then said.
The introductions were duly acknowledged, after which the party went into the station, and thence to the street beyond.
“Where are you going to stop?” Dr. Sterling wanted to know, as he turned an inquisitive glance on Aunt Betty.
“I’ve forgotten the name of the place,” replied the mistress of Bellvieu, “but Herr Deichenberg can enlighten you. He wired ahead for the rooms.”
“It iss de Arlington,” the music master vouchsafed. “De proprietor iss a personal friend of mine, und de accommodations vill be of de very best.”
“Then I shall immediately change my quarters,” said the genial doctor. “I am farther down town, but as we are to be in the city but a couple of days, it is well for us to be together as much as possible.”
This programme was followed to the letter, and before noon Dorothy and Aunt Betty had washed, and changed their attire for fresh, clean linen suits, after which they announced themselves in readiness for any events that might be on the programme.
Dr. Sterling, who had been holding a conference with Jim, proposed a boat trip down the bay.
“Oh, that will be delightful,” Dorothy said. “How can it be arranged?”
“I have a friend in New York, a Mr. Ronald, who owns a very handsome private yacht. This he has placed at my disposal on all occasions. I shall immediately call him up by ’phone and find if the boat is available for this afternoon.”
This the doctor did, and returned a few moments later with the good news that Mr. Ronald would personally see that the party viewed all the sights of the bay and river front.
While at lunch one of the surprises of the day revealed itself in the shape of Judge Breckenridge and Molly, who walked in on the astonished Calverts totally unannounced.
“Molly!”
“Dorothy!”
These exclamations were followed by a bear-like hug as the girls flew into each other’s arms. Many of the diners became interested and stopped eating long enough to watch the lingering embrace to the end.
The Judge shook hands all around, then places were made for him and Molly at the table occupied by Aunt Betty, Dorothy and Jim.
Dorothy quickly won their promise to go down the bay in the yacht, and lunch over, the party immediately made preparations to start.
Herr Deichenberg and his wife were sure the trip would prove rather trying for them, as neither was fond of the water, so decided to remain at the hotel and receive Mr. Ludlow, who was due at four o’clock.
Upon Dorothy’s insisting that perhaps she had better stay and meet the manager, also, the Herr shook his head.
“No, no; dat iss entirely unnecessary.”
“Then give him my regards, and say that I shall see him to-night or in the morning,” cried the girl.
“I vill do dat. In de meantime enjoy yourself. Forget there iss such a t’ing as a concert. To-morrow night, vhen you stand before de great audience in de theater, iss time enough to t’ink of dat.”
Aunt Betty at first thought she, too, would remain behind, but after lunch she was feeling in such unusually good spirits that she announced her intention of going, if only to have an old-time chat with the Judge.
“Auntie, you are getting younger every day,” cried Dorothy, pleased that her relative was so spry at her advanced age.
“And I intend to continue to grow younger as long as I may, dear. It is a privilege not given many women, and I shall make the most of it. If I have the opportunity I may even set my cap for a beau.”
“Oh, Aunt Betty, how can you say such a thing!”
“‘Such a thing,’ as you call it, would be perfectly proper. Would it not, Judge Breckenridge?”
“Quite proper, madame – quite proper,” responded the judge gallantly – “in fact, judging by the evidence of my eyes, I see no other solution of the matter.”
“What a gallant speech,” laughed Molly. “You may be a semi-invalid, papa, but you will never, never lose your courtly ways.”
“An example which all young men should emulate,” said Aunt Betty, looking pointedly at Jim, who grinned broadly.
It was a merry party that boarded the trim gasoline yacht Nautilus at one of the wharves an hour later. Aunt Betty, assisted by the Judge and Jim, was the first aboard. Doctor Sterling, with Dorothy and Molly followed.
The owner of the yacht was introduced by Dr. Sterling, and when all were comfortably seated in the deck chairs forward, Mr. Ronald signaled the man in the wheelhouse, who in turn signaled the engine-room to go ahead.
“Ah, this is my style of boating,” sighed the Judge, as, with a deep sigh of satisfaction he dropped into one of the comfortable chairs on the forward deck. “When a boy I used to sail a little sloop, but after all, it is better to have something to push you besides the wind.”
The steamer whistle screeched hoarsely.
“We’re off!” cried Dr. Sterling.
Though a strong breeze, in which there was a tinge of dampness, came in from the ocean as the yacht went spinning down the bay, no one chose to retire to the cabin, even Aunt Betty protesting that the fresh air was doing her good.
A heavy swell was running, but the Nautilus weathered the waves in true ocean style, only a slight rocking movement being perceptible.
When they were well started down the bay, Mr. Ronald came to ask if they cared to visit the Statue of Liberty.
“I think that’s an excellent idea,” said Dr. Sterling. “Judge Breckenridge and Mrs. Calvert cannot, of course, climb the spiral stairs leading up into the statue, but we younger people can, and will, if you say the word.”
“Oh, I think it will be jolly,” cried Dorothy, who had seen the Statue of Liberty from the Brooklyn bridge and wondered what was inside it.
Molly and Jim fell promptly in with the plan, so the yacht was moored to the little island, after which Dr. Sterling guided the girls and Jim up to the dizzy height represented by the statue’s hand. Quite a climb it was, too, but one which amply rewarded them, for they were able to gaze out over city and bay to such an advantage that they were loath to descend.
Back to the yacht they finally went, however, and the Nautilus again turned her nose down the upper bay.
On one side lay Brooklyn, on the other Jersey City, while about them craft of all shapes and sizes puffed and snorted as they performed their daily tasks.
On down into the lower bay the yacht went skimming, breasting the heavy swells of the Atlantic, and causing exclamations of delight from both Molly and Dorothy, neither of whom had ever been this far at sea.
Down between the upper quarantine and the Staten Island shore they went at a speed of twelve knots, then, rounding the lower quarantine, stood straight for Rockaway Beach.
It was too early in the season for any of the resorts to be open, hence the girls were unable to view the scenes of activity that make these famous places the mecca of the bathers in the warm season.
“I imagine I should like to spend a summer here,” said Dorothy.
“And perhaps some of these days you will have the opportunity – who knows?” remarked Aunt Betty.
“Well, when she comes I must be included in the party or there will be big trouble,” Molly put in.
“Lots of trouble you’d make your best chum, young lady,” replied Aunt Betty, chucking the Judge’s daughter playfully under the chin.
After a run of some twenty minutes, the yacht again turned, this time nosing its way back along the coast toward the lower bay.
“In a few moments, I will show you Brighton and Manhattan Beaches,” said Dr. Sterling – “also the famous Coney Island of which you have heard so much.”
“I should dearly love to visit Coney,” said Dorothy.
“I have been there twice,” said Molly, proudly, “and it is a veritable city of wonders. I have never been able to understand how a brain can conceive all those funny things which amuse you.”
“Great brains are capable of many things in these days,” Jim said.
“Oh, are they now, my noble philosopher?”
“Yes, Miss Saucy, they are!”
“What’s that stretch of water east of us, with all the little islands in it?” asked Dorothy, suddenly.
“That is Jamaica Bay,” replied Mr. Ronald. “It lies across the peninsula from Rockaway Beach.”
“I thought Jamaica was in the West Indies, or some other forsaken spot,” said Molly.
“Come, come,” chided Dr. Sterling. “Remember your geography.”
“You certainly ought to know where the ginger comes from,” said Jim, in the same bantering spirit.
“Well, I guess I do, if anybody asks you, Mr. Barlow,” she returned, saucily. “But that’s no sign I knew there was a Jamaica Bay in New York State. My geography didn’t teach me that.”
“Of course it did,” taunted the boy, “but you did not take the trouble to remember it.”
Further discussion of this unimportant subject was cut short by a crash from the engine-room of the yacht, followed by a hissing noise as of escaping steam, and the propeller, which was being driven at many thousands of revolutions per minute, began suddenly to slow up.
A shriek from Aunt Betty drew Dorothy quickly to her side, while Mr. Ronald cried out:
“Something has happened to the engine!”
Then he made a dash below decks, followed by Dr. Sterling, and, a few seconds later, by Jim, who saw in the yacht’s misfortune another opportunity to satisfy his mechanical curiosity.
The boy reached the engine-room directly on the heels of Mr. Ronald and Dr. Sterling, and saw the engineer and his assistant flat on their backs trying to locate the trouble.
“Something apparently broke inside her, sir,” the engineer was saying, in response to a question from Mr. Ronald. “I can’t say how serious it is till we find it, sir.”
“Then of course you do not know how long we shall be delayed?”
“No; I couldn’t say, sir. Can’t even promise that we can run in on one pair of cylinders, sir, for they all seem to be affected alike.”
At this a shadow overspread the owner’s face and he turned to Dr. Sterling.
“Sorry, Doc,” he said. “What did you tell me about getting to town before dark?”
“I merely mentioned the fact that Miss Calvert should be early to bed, because she appears at a concert to-morrow evening, and it is necessary that she feel as well as possible.”
“It is after four now,” said Mr. Ronald, looking at his watch, “and I don’t know what to tell you until Sharley – that’s my engineer – locates the trouble.”
“Then perhaps we had better withhold from those on deck the fact that there may be an indefinite delay, merely making the general statement that the trouble is being rectified as rapidly as possible.”
“Very well; will you tell them, and make my excuses? I shall want to stay pretty close here till this trouble is found.”
“I’ll tell them,” said the doctor, and motioning Jim to follow went on deck. So the news which, poorly told, might have brought consternation to Dorothy and her aunt, merely aroused their curiosity. Soon they were laughing and talking with all thoughts of the accident gone from their minds.
