Dorothy's Triumph Part 8

"Who dares talk of Dorothy when she is not present?" demanded that young lady, coming out on the gallery at this moment. "I believe this is a conspiracy."

"Dorothy Calvert!"

"Aurora Blank!"

These sharp exclamations were followed by a joyous hug and a half dozen kisses, while Jim stood looking on in amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Say, don't I get in that game?" he wanted to know.

"If you wish," said Aurora, throwing him a coquettish glance.

"No indeed!" laughed Dorothy. "Gentlemen are entirely excluded." She turned to her girl friend. "How well you are looking! And what a pretty dress!"

"Do you like it, Dorothy? Mamma had it made for me last week. At first it didn't please me--the the front of the waist is so crazy with its pleats and frills."

"Oh, that's what I liked about it--what first caught my eye. It's odd, but very, very pretty."

"Excuse me!" murmured Jim. "The conversation grows uninteresting,"

and turning his back, he walked off down the lawn. He cast a laughing glance over his shoulder an instant later, however, shaking his head as if to say, "Girls will be girls."

"Come into the house, Aurora, and tell me about yourself. What has happened in old Baltimore since I've been gone? Really, Aunt Betty and I have been too busy arranging for my music lessons, and with various and sundry other things to have a good old-time chat."

"Things have been rather dull here. Gerald and I went with papa and mamma to the theaters twice a week last winter, with an occasional matinee by ourselves, but aside from that, life has been very dull in Baltimore--that is, until the auto came a few weeks since. Now we take a 'joy' ride every afternoon, with an occasional evening thrown in for good measure."

"I am anxious to see your car, Aurora."

"And I am anxious to have you see it."

"It must be a beauty."

"Oh, it is." Aurora leaned toward her friend. "Confidentially, Dorothy, it cost papa over four thousand dollars."

"Just think of all that money to spend for pleasure!" cried Dorothy.

"But then, it makes you happy, and I suppose that's what money is for."

"Did you ask your aunt about starting on our trip the first of the week?"

"Yes, and it's all right. We'll be ready. The only thing worrying me now is that I'm expecting to hear from one of my dearest girl chums, Molly Breckenridge--"

"Oh, and is she going with us?"

"Aunt Betty made me ask her. She said you wanted us to make up the party, and include Gerald and yourself."

"That's the very idea. It's your trip, Dorothy, given in honor of your home-coming."

"I'm sure that's nice of you, Aurora. And now let's discuss--"

"Pawdon me, Miss Dorot'y," interrupted Ephraim, entering at this moment. "I--I--er--good mawnin', Miss Aurory."

"Good morning, Ephy," Dorothy's visitor responded. "Has anyone told you that you are to become a chauffeur?"

"W'at's dat, Miss Aurory? A show fer? A show fer w'at?"

"A chauffeur, Ephy, is a man who drives an automobile."

"One o' dem fellers dat sets up in de front seat en turns de steerin'

apparatus?"

"Exactly. How would you like to do that?"

"I ain't nebber monkeyed round dem gasoline contraptions none, but I reckon I'd like tuh do w'at yo' say, Miss Aurory--yas'm; I jes'

reckon I would."

"Well, Gerald is coming over some time to-day to show you and Jim a few things about the car. You will take turns playing chauffeur on our camping trip, and he wants to give you a lesson every day until we leave."

"Dat suah suits me," grinned the old negro.

"But what did you want, Ephy?" Dorothy asked, recalling him suddenly to his errand.

"Oh, Lordy, I done fergit w'at I come fo'. Lemme see--oh, yas'm, I got er lettah fo' yo'. Jes' lemme see where I put dat doggone--er--beggin' yo' pawdon, young ladies, I--Heah hit is!"

The letter, fished from one of Ephraim's capacious pockets, was quickly handed over.

"Oh, it's from Molly!" the girl cried, joyously, as she looked at the postmark. "Let's see what she has to say. You may go, Ephy."

"Yas'm," responded the darkey, and with an elaborate bow he departed.

Tearing open the letter, Dorothy read as follows:

"_My Dear, Dear Chum_:--

"To say that I was overwhelmed by your very kind invitation, is to express it mildly, indeed. The surprise was complete.

I had hardly realized that you had finished your course at Oak Knowe and returned to Baltimore. It is strange how rapidly the time flies past.

"We returned from California, some two weeks ago. Papa is greatly improved in health, for which we are all duly thankful. He says he feels like a new man and his actions bear out his words. He wants to know how his little Dorothy is, and when she is coming to visit him. In the meantime, it may be that I shall bring the answer to him in person, as I am leaving next Monday evening for Baltimore, and you, dear Dorothy!

"How glad I shall be to see you! As for the camping trip, you know how I love an outing, and this, I am sure, will prove to be one of the finest I have ever had. So, until Tuesday morning, when you meet me at the train, _au revoir_.

"Ever your loving "MOLLY."

"I just know I shall like Molly Breckenridge," cried Aurora. "Such a nice letter! I have already pictured in my mind the sort of girl that wrote it."

"You will like her, Aurora, for she is one of the best girls that ever breathed. Full of mischief, yes, but with a heart as big as a mountain. There is nothing she won't do for anyone fortunate enough to be called her friend."

"I hope to be that fortunate before our trip is over. But you, Dorothy, are more than friend to her. One can see that from the tone of the letter."

"I hope and believe I am her dearest chum."