Dorothy's Triumph

“Shall we say ten o’clock, then?”

“Yes.”

“I trust I shall not inconvenience your aunt by calling so early.”

“Not at all.”

“It is imperative that I catch a train for New York at twelve.”

Mr. Ludlow took his leave, after expressing his pleasure at having met Dorothy.

The girl’s feelings would be hard to describe. That her playing should have awakened the interest of a professional manager was to her rather astonishing.

She was meditating over the offer, and wondering what her prim and staid Aunt Betty would think of it, when Frau Deichenberg entered the dressing-room. The Frau had been on the stage looking after several of the Herr’s protégés, and was highly elated over the showing they had made.

“My dear, my dear,” she cried. “You have done nobly! Herr Deichenberg is pleased with you beyond measure.”

To which Dorothy responded:

“If I have deserved his praise, I am glad. But it seems that I have done so little.”

“Ah, but did you not hear de audience? Dey liked your moosic, und dey clap their hands und stamp their feet. Dat iss de one true mark of appreciation.”

When the concert was over and Dorothy was traveling homeward in the barouche with Aunt Betty, she told her of the visit of Mr. Ludlow. Aunt Betty listened patiently until she had finished, then said:

“Dear, I had supposed I was raising you up to something better than a stage career.”

“But, auntie, the stage is all right – it must be, there are so many fine people connected with it. And then, it would be the concert stage in my case, and that is different from dramatic work, you know.”

“Yes; but violinists, as well as other performers, sometimes listen to the call of the dollar, and go from the concert to the variety stage. I am not sure such connections would be the best for my little girl.”

“But, Aunt Betty, it is my life’s ambition,” said the girl, a queer little catch in her voice.

“There, there,” Aunt Betty responded, as she put her arm about the shoulder of her great-niece. “Don’t take what I say so much to heart. We will think this matter over, and you may be very sure of one thing, dear – we shall do what is right and for the best.”

And with this for the time being Dorothy was forced to be content.

The matter was put in abeyance for an indefinite time, however, by a message from Mr. Ludlow, the following morning, in which he said he had been called back to New York earlier than he had expected, but that he would not forget the girl, and upon his next visit to Baltimore during the course of the fall or winter, he would arrange to call and settle matters to Dorothy’s entire satisfaction.

“And who knows, by then I may have won Aunt Betty over,” muttered the girl, who, however, decided to drop the subject until the opportune moment arrived to discuss it.

CHAPTER XI

CHRISTMAS AT BELLVIEU

The fall days slipped rapidly by, and still Dorothy continued to take instruction from Herr Deichenberg, improving her technique with each lesson under the old music master’s careful guidance. The concert had been a revelation to her. For the first time in her life she had stood before a great assemblage and heard the roars of applause which her playing aroused, and it had given her confidence as nothing else could.

Aunt Betty’s deep-rooted prejudice against a stage career was the only thing that served to mar the girl’s pleasure, and even this caused no great unhappiness, for Aunt Betty’s refusal to allow Dorothy to play professional engagements took the form only of feeble protests. This led the girl to hope her relative might gradually be won over.

Then, as the holidays approached, bringing a letter from Molly in which she stated that she and the Judge would arrive at Bellvieu several days before Christmas, the stage career was for the time relegated to the innermost recesses of her mind, and she joined Aunt Betty in an effort to have a real, old-fashioned Christmas. This, with the aid of Ephraim, Dinah and Chloe, they were fortunately able to do. As the preparations went forward, Aunt Betty’s delight knew no bounds, and her soul was filled with rapturousness as joy after joy unfolded itself to relieve the tedium and monotony of her old age.

A week before the eventful day, Ephraim and Metty, with two other negroes, hired for the occasion, took a team and sleigh and set out for the timber along the shore of the bay. There had been a heavy fall of snow the night before and the ground was covered with a sparkling mantle, while an invigorating breeze from the north filled everyone with energetic desires.

Once at their destination Ephraim and his men felled a large black gum tree from which two logs were cut. These were just short of four feet in length and cut with the especial purpose of filling the two large fire-places in the Calvert mansion.

Returning late in the evening with their load, they rolled the big logs into the duck pond back of the barn, where the crust of ice was thin, there to soak until Christmas morning, at which time they would be placed in their respective fire-places in the big dining and living-rooms of the house, and a fire kindled.

Ephraim was thoroughly familiar with the old custom, and it was understood between him and Aunt Betty that he should keep good fires burning during the day and banked during the night after bed time. Logs such as these would, by this process, last ten days, or until the holidays had come and gone, for they were burned until not a vestige remained but ashes.

During the latter part of November Aunt Betty had caused a half dozen of her finest turkeys to be put up to fatten. Some days later several huge pound cakes had been baked and a nice little pig put in the pen to grow round and tender, later to be roasted whole, with a tempting red apple in his mouth. Mincemeat, souse, and stuffed sausages, those edibles of the early days, which Aunt Betty had grown to love and yearn for, were provided on this occasion by Chloe and Dinah, and when, a few days before Christmas, Metty returned from the woods with a fine, fat possum, the mistress of Bellvieu began to feel that her Christmas would be indeed complete.

A store of sweet potatoes had been laid by, and green apple, pumpkin, potato and other pies made and stored in the cellar.

In the days of Aunt Betty’s girlhood, when there were no cooking stoves, turkeys were cooked in a turkey roaster made of sheet iron, with a dripping-pan in the bottom and a large tin lid, much resembling a buggy top, over the pan. When Mr. Turkey was stuffed and otherwise prepared for the feast, he was spitted on an iron rod that passed through the sides of the roaster and on through his body from end to end. Then he was ready for the finishing touches over a red-hot fire. The roasters had legs at each corner, so that hot embers could be placed under it when necessary. The tin top reflected the heat and had hinges so that it could be turned back when the cook basted the turkey with a prepared sauce. The dripping-pan at the bottom served to catch and hold the rich gravy.

As Aunt Betty stood now, watching the preparations for the roasting of one of the turkeys, her thoughts traveled back to those other days, and she marveled at the progress of civilization.

“Lawsee, Mis’ Betty!” cried Chloe, as she stopped to wipe her hands on her gingham apron. “We’s gwine tuh hab ’nuff food in dis yere house tuh feed er million people, looks like tuh me.”

Aunt Betty laughed.

“Better too much than not enough,” she observed. “I reckon there won’t be much left by the time New Year’s Day has come and gone. Gerald and Aurora Blank will be over for Christmas dinner, and will drop in for occasional meals during holiday week. Then, with Miss Molly and her father, and Herr and Frau Deichenberg, there will be a nice little party here at home. Those boys, Jim and Len, have appetites that will startle you. Oh, yes; we have lots to eat, Chloe, but – well, you just watch it disappear!”

“Yas’m; we’ll watch hit, all right, en I reckon, Mis’ Betty, dat Ephy, Dinah en me’ll sort o’ help it disappear, too!”

Chloe, bending nearly double, guffawed loudly at her own joke.

Aunt Betty smiled, too, then went to the front of the house to meet the carriage which had been sent to the train, with Dorothy and Jim in it, to meet Judge Breckenridge and Molly.

Dorothy’s chum waved her hand at Aunt Betty, then came hurrying up the walk, to be the first to greet the mistress of Bellvieu. Then came the Judge, cane in hand, assisted by Jim, looking much better, but still somewhat enfeebled in health.

“I’m glad indeed to see you again, Judge Breckenridge,” greeted Aunt Betty, as she clasped one of his hands in both her own. “I am particularly pleased to be able to welcome you to a Christmas at Bellvieu.”

“And I am more than pleased to be here,” was the Judge’s response. “I am sure it will be one of the most delightful trips of my life.”

Once inside, and ensconced in easy chairs in the living-room, Aunt Betty pressed him for news concerning his sister, Lucretia, as well as Mrs. Hungerford, Mrs. Stark and Mrs. Cook, not forgetting to ask if the Judge ever heard from Joel Snackenberg. These questions answered to her entire satisfaction, Aunt Betty excused herself to see to the preparing of the mid-day meal, leaving Jim to talk to the Judge.

“I haven’t seen you in a long time, my boy,” said Molly’s father, “but it seems to me you are growing into a fine, strong young man. Molly tells me you’ve left Dr. Sterling for good.”

“Yes, sir; I thought I’d better strike out for myself.”

“And what do you intend doing, if I may ask?”

“I intend learning electricity, sir – in fact, it is on Dr. Sterling’s advice that I do so. Aunt Betty through some of her friends here, has arranged to secure me a place the first of the year. I have been idle during the past few months waiting for this position to materialize, and I’m certainly glad it is coming out all right.”

“You will have to serve an apprenticeship, I suppose?”

“Yes, sir.”