Donald and Dorothy. Dodge Mary Mapes

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      And as the dear home-road came in sight, the horses quickened their already brisk pace, the party leaned back luxuriously and gave themselves up to enjoyment of the clear air, the changing roadside, and the glories of the western sky, now ablaze with the setting sun.

      No one excepting Jack saw a tall, lank figure disappearing among the shrubbery as the carriage rumbled down the avenue that led to the house.

      "Look to wind'ard, Capt'n!" whispered Jack, mysteriously, to Mr. George, while Donald was gallantly assisting Dorothy from the carriage; "there's mischief in the air."

      "What now, John?" asked Mr. George, rather patronizingly.

      "A queer craft's just hove to, sir, in the evergreen bushes as we came in," mumbled Jack, almost under his breath, while pretending to screw the handle of his whip.

      Mr. George scowled. "Is he there now?"

      "Can't say, sir."

      "Very well; I will soon find out." And Mr. George, with a pleasant but decisive, "Run in, youngsters," as Liddy opened the wide hall-door, walked briskly down the carriage-drive.

      When the door closed, he turned into the shrubbery.

      CHAPTER V.

      SUPPER-TIME

      "Oh, if gentlemen only knew the nature of muffins!"

      Poor Liddy! Her trig black dress and jaunty muslin cap seemed to mock her perturbed feelings, as she hovered between the kitchen and the hall door. Donald and Dorothy, neatly brushed, – cool and pink of cheek, and very crisp in the matter of neck-ties, – stood at one window of the supper-room. The flaxen-haired waitress, in a bright blue calico gown and white apron, watched, tray in hand, at the other. A small wood-fire, just lighted, was waking into life on the hearth. Old Nero was dozing upon the rug, with one eye open. And all – to say nothing of the muffins – were waiting for Mr. George, whom the D's had not seen since their return from the drive, half an hour before.

      When that gentleman came in he stepped briskly to his seat at the table, and, though he did not speak, his manner seemed to say: "Everything is all right. I merely came in a little late. Now for supper!" But Nero, rising slowly from the warm rug, slipped under the table, rubbed himself sympathetically against his master's legs, and finally settled down at his feet, quite contented to serve as a foot-stool for Donald and Dorothy, who soon were seated one on each side of the table, while Lydia, carefully settling her gown, took her place at the large tea-tray.

      Mr. George, as the good housekeeper soon saw to her satisfaction, did appreciate the nature of muffins.

      So did Donald and Dorothy.

      CHAPTER VI.

      A FAMILY CONFERENCE

      After supper, Uncle George, Donald, and Dorothy went into the library, where they found the soft light of a shaded lamp and another cheerful fire, – so cheerful, that Mr. George let down the windows at the top, and the two D's were glad to go and sit on the sofa at the cooler end of the spacious room.

      "Liddy is determined that we shall not freeze before the winter sets in," remarked Mr. George, hardly knowing how to begin the conversation. He was not the first good man who has found himself embarrassed in the presence of frank young listeners waiting to hear him speak and sure to weigh and remember everything he may say.

      The children smiled solemnly.

      Thus began an interview which, in some respects, changed the lives of Donald and Dorothy.

      "Liddy is a good, faithful soul," said Uncle George. "She has been with us, you know, ever since you were babies."

      "And before too," put in Dorry, knowingly.

      "Yes, before too," assented Mr. George. "Some years before."

      Nero, lazing by the fire, snapped at an imaginary fly, at which the D's, glad of a chance to relieve themselves, and feeling that the interview was one of grave importance, indulged in a smothered laugh.

      "And Nero, poor faithful old dog, you knew us!" continued Mr. George, changing to a more cheerful tone, while Nero's tail contentedly beat time to the remark (for the good creature knew well enough that Mr. George was speaking of him); "he was hardly a year old then, the friskiest, handsomest fellow you ever saw, and brave as a lion."

      "Did he know Aunt Kate?" asked the audacious Dorothy.

      Donald looked frightened; Uncle George coughed; and just as Dorothy, wretchedly uncomfortable, made up her mind that it was too cruel for anything, never to be able to speak of your own aunty without raising a storm, Mr. George came out of the bright light and seated himself on the sofa between the D's with an arm around each. Dorry, puzzled but almost happy, drew as close as she could, but still sat upright; and Donald, manly boy that he was, felt a dignified satisfaction in his uncle's embrace, and met him with a frank, questioning look. It was the work of an instant. Dorry's startling inquiry still sounded on the firelit air.

      "Donald," said Uncle, without replying to Dorry's question. "Let me see. You are now fourteen years old?"

      "Fourteen and ten days, – nearly half a month over fourteen," said Dorothy, promptly. "Aren't we, Donald? I'm so glad!"

      Donald nodded, and Uncle placidly asked why she was glad.

      "Because twins can't boss – I mean domineer – each other. If Don was the least bit older than me – I – me, it wouldn't be half so nice as starting fair and square."

      Here she gave a satisfied little cough, and to her great surprise felt her uncle's arm immediately withdrawn.

      "Stop your nonsense, Dorothy," said he, almost sternly, "and don't interrupt."

      "Now Uncle's afraid again," thought Donald, but he felt so sorry for his sister that he said, in a tone of dignified respect: "Dorry didn't mean to be rude, Uncle."

      "No, no. Certainly not," said that very puzzling individual, suddenly resuming his former position, and drawing the little lady toward him. "Where were we? Oh, yes! Fourteen years and ten days, is it?"

      "Yes, sir, right to a minute," replied Donald, laughing.

      "Well, there is no hurry, I am glad to say. I have been thinking of late, Donald, that a little boarding-school experience is a good thing for a boy."

      Dorothy started; but she had resolved rather sullenly that people would have to wait a long while before they should hear another word from her.

      "Yes, sir," assented Donald, quickly. It would be glorious to go, he thought, and actually be a boarding-school boy, belonging to a crack base-ball club, a debating society, perhaps even a secret society; to get boxes of fruit and cake from home, and share them with his room-mates; maybe have a fight or two, for a fellow must hold his own, you know; – but then how strange it would be to live without Dorry! Oh, if she only were a boy!

      "I'd come home on Thanksgiving and Christmas?" asked Don, following up a rather lonesome feeling.

      "Oh, yes! but you're not off yet, my boy. The fact is, I did think seriously of sending you this autumn, and I even looked up a few good places, intending to make a selection. But there's no special hurry. This boarding-school business has its uncomfortable СКАЧАТЬ