Dorothy Dainty at Glenmore | Page 2

letters are just like herself," she whispered.
She looked up. Nancy was calling to her.
"A letter from Vera!" answered Dorothy.
"We shall have to hurry a bit," Nancy said, "James is strapping the two
trunks, the suit-cases are out in the hall, and we must be ready in
twenty minutes."
"All right!" cried Dorothy. "Give me your hand and we'll run to the
house."
She tucked the letter into the front of her blouse, and then promptly
forgot all about it.
The "twenty minutes" sped on wings, and when at last Dorothy and
Nancy sat side by side in the car, their trunks checked, their suit-cases,
and umbrellas on the seat that had been turned over for them, they
turned, each to look into the other's eyes.
Dorothy's lip quivered, but she spoke bravely.
"It is hard, this first trip away from home without mother or Aunt
Charlotte with us," she said. Then quickly she added:
"But it will be fine when we get used to being away from home."

"Oh, yes, it will be fine!" Nancy said in a firm voice, but she looked
down, lest her eyes show a suspicious moisture.
As the journey progressed, their spirits rose. After all, it was not really
"good-by," yet.
Mrs. Dainty had postponed the actual "good-by" until a week after
Dorothy and Nancy should have begun the school year at Glenmore.
She knew that Vera Vane was a host in herself, her friend and chum,
Elfreda was nearly her equal in active wit, and high spirits, and at least
a few of the other pupils would have already formed a speaking
acquaintance with the two new girls.
The girls would have been assigned places in the classes for which they
were fitted, and thus the school work would be planned, and their time
closely occupied.
Mrs. Dainty and Aunt Charlotte were also eager to know if the two who
were so dear to them were comfortable, satisfied with their
surroundings, and looking forward to a pleasant school year. Until thus
assured, they could not set out on the journey, for the trip had been
planned as a means of rest and recuperation for Mrs. Dainty. How
could she rest, or enjoy the trip unless she were sure that Dorothy was
absolutely content and happy? If Dorothy were happy, Nancy was sure
to be, because the two were inseparable, and their tastes nearly
identical.
The two girls were a bit tired of looking from the window at the flying
scenery, and Nancy expressed the wish that they had brought
something with them to read.
"I did," Dorothy said, with a laugh, and she drew Vera's letter from her
blouse.
She read it aloud, while Nancy leaned against her shoulder, enjoying it
with her.

"I wish you had come the first day that school opened, but I'll be on the
lookout for you and Nancy. My! But we'll have fun and a plenty of it
this year at Glenmore," she concluded, signed her name, and then
added a postscript.
"Patricia, and Arabella are here, both--no, each--oh, which should I say?
Anyway, they're acting just outrageous, and already they've earned the
name that the girls have given them. They call them 'The Freaks,' and
truly the name fits. They speak of Patricia as 'the one with the queer
clothes,' and of Arabella as 'the medicine-chest.'
"She's taking more pills, I do believe, than she ever did at home, and
she wants folks to notice that.
"The idea! I'm glad there are two nice girls coming from Merrivale,
although you'd never think Patricia ever saw the place, for she talks of
nothing but 'N'York.' My brother Bob always laughs about my long
postscripts. It's lucky he can't see this one!
"Lovingly,
"VERA."
Dorothy folded the letter, again placing it in her blouse, and then for a
time they watched the passengers.
Opposite them was a big woman, who possessed three bird-cages, two
holding birds, and the third imprisoning a kitten.
There was a lean man with a fat little girl beside him, who ate countless
lunches, which were packed in a big basket, that seemed a veritable
horn of plenty.
Yet a bit farther up the aisle was a small boy with a large cage that he
watched closely.
A thick cloth covered it, but once, when the boy was not looking, a
long brown furry arm reached out, and snatched mischievously at his

sleeve.
"It's a monkey," whispered Nancy, and the boy turned and grinned.
"'F he knew there was a monkey in that cage he'd make me put it in the
baggage car," he said.
Dorothy was tired with the long ride, and just as she was thinking that
she could not bear much more of it, the brakeman shouted, "Glenmore!
Glenmore!" and the two