CHAPTER IX
THE LITTLE WOMAN IN BLACK
Again Dorothy invited Tavia to go to the city with her, but Tavia refusedon the plea that her head threatened to ache, and she thought it best tostay at home. So on the morning following the boys' joke with the stuffedman, Dorothy got ready early and hurried for the business train to thecity.
She reached the station just in time--merely had her ticket bought whenthe train steamed in--and making her way among the crowds of men, she wasable to reach a seat in one of the coaches where a few women werescattered in with the many gentlemen who patronized the express.
She had unconsciously followed the one woman who boarded the train atNorth Birchland, and now took the same seat--the other getting close tothe window and leaving the half seat free for Dorothy.
It was some moments before the girl chanced to look up and observe hercompanion. When she did so, she was startled to find her none other thanthe little woman in black.
The stranger seemed to note Dorothy's surprise, and turned directly toher.
"We meet again," she said pleasantly, in a voice Dorothy thought at oncecultured and peculiarly sweet.
"Yes," replied Dorothy, also smiling. Surely she and Tavia had beenmistaken in their unkind opinion of this little body.
"I go into the city almost daily," continued the woman, "and now, in thebusy time, I try to make this early train. I do so dislike to get in thedense crowd."
"It is unpleasant," said Dorothy a little guiltily, for at each word thewoman spoke she felt more positive this gentle person could never be whatthey had supposed her--a shoplifter.
"I wanted to speak to your friend the other day," went on the stranger,"but I couldn't seem to get an opportunity. I suppose I might--send her amessage--by you?"
"Why, yes--certainly," Dorothy stammered, really surprised this time.
"I saw when she dropped the envelope in the train that her name wasTravers, and I thought if she would call on me I might be able to help herin a little business matter. It is of rather a delicate nature," thewoman added, smiling, "so you will excuse me for being so mysterious."
"Why, of course," was all that Dorothy could think to answer. "I am sureTavia--Miss Travers--would be glad--"
"Here is my card," interrupted the woman, evidently noting Dorothy'sembarrassment. Dorothy accepted the piece of cardboard, and glancing at itread:
MISS ESTELLE BROOKS _Expert Penman_ _Envelopes addressed, etc. Benson Road, Ferndale._
As she read the card it flashed through Dorothy's mind that after all thewoman might simply be trying to get trade. There seemed to be someconnection between Tavia's envelope and the business advertised on MissBrooks' card. But whatever could she want of Tavia? Surely she could notimagine a young girl needing the services of an expert penman?
"I saw your trouble in the store the other day," Miss Brooks ventured,"and was so sorry for you. I did want to help you--to tell that youngwoman detective just what I thought. But experience has taught me that itis not always best to interfere in such cases. It often only adds to thedifficulty."
Dorothy could not find words in which to reply. Whatever she might saywould either seem stupid or perhaps suspicious. And of the subtle ways ofwomen "sharpers" Dorothy had often heard. It was, she decided, almostimpossible to be sufficiently alert to offset their cunning. Perhaps thiswoman was one of that class--an adept at it.
"Is there any particular time you would like Miss Travers to call?"Dorothy asked, turning the subject sharply.
"I am always at home on Thursdays," replied Miss Brooks, "and she willhave no trouble in finding me. I board at the Griswold."
Dorothy knew the Griswold to be a rest resort, a sort of sanitarium wherefashionable people went to recuperate from home or social duties. ThisMiss Brooks did not appear to be in the circumstances of those whofrequented the Griswold, the girl thought.
"I'll tell her," she said simply.
"She is just a friend?" ventured Miss Brooks questioningly.
"A very dear friend," replied Dorothy warmly, at the same moment making upher mind that the stranger would not learn from her any more concerningTavia or her character.
"I thought so," went on her companion. "Well, she is evidently impetuous;that is why I feel I may help her. Ordinarily I would not interfere--it isreally a trifle risky for me, but she seems so young; and--well, I'll takemy chances this time."
Dorothy was completely mystified. She could not guess at any business orcircumstances which might occasion such remarks. But somehow she felt thatthe woman spoke with knowledge of something about Tavia. What thatsomething might be Dorothy was absolutely at a loss to conjecture.
"I know I surprise you," said Miss Brooks, divining her thoughts, "butsome girls do strange things. Miss Travers is evidently one of them."
Dorothy's cheeks flamed at this remark. Why should she speak so of Tavia?
"I have known Miss Travers since she was a child," flashed Dorothy, "and Ihave never thought her--strange."
Scarcely had the words been uttered than all Tavia's pranks and folliesseemed to come up before Dorothy's memory like some horrid, mockingspecters.
Surely Tavia had always done "strange things," and very likely onlyDorothy's powerful influence had kept her from risking greater dangers.
But Dorothy could not listen to anything against her nearest and dearestfriend. No stranger had a right to condemn her.
The train was slacking up as it steamed into the big, arched station. HereMiss Brooks would go her way, while Dorothy would be left to think overthe unexpected happenings of the brief railroad journey.
There seemed to Dorothy something almost patronizing in the stranger'smanner as she bade her good-by. Perhaps she did pity her--but why? Whatwas wrong, or what might happen on this day's shopping venture?
"I really do believe I'm getting queer myself," mused the girl, tryingvainly to shake off her fears and suspicions. "Well, so many queer thingsdo manage to happen in a single holiday vacation I don't wonder that Icatch the germ; it must be infectious."
Dorothy's little fur toque fitted gracefully on her beautiful blonde head.Her cheeks matched the poinsettia, or Christmas flower, and her eyes wereas blue as the sapphires in the jewel shops.
With some slight agitation she entered Boardman's. It was in this storethat the ring incident had occurred, and the thought of her experiencewas not exactly pleasant to the sensitive girl.
"But I saw such pretty things in there," she insisted secretly. "I must goback and get some of them."
Timidly she approached the jewelry counter. Surely the clerks, or MissAllen, at least, recognized her. The latter stepped directly up to theplace where Dorothy stood.
"Good-morning," began the clerk, smiling pleasantly. "What can I do foryou?"
Dorothy was hardly ready to make her purchases. She answered the greetingand said so. Then Miss Allen leaned over the counter.
"I wanted to tell you that Miss Dearing, the woman detective, has beendischarged."
"Oh, has she?" asked Dorothy. "I'm sorry."
"Well, you needn't be," Miss Allen assured her. "She didn't much care howyou fared."
"But she only made a mistake," pleaded Dorothy.
"Perhaps," and Miss Allen shrugged her shoulders; "but she took thetrouble to come to me and ask your address."
"My address!"
"Yes; wanted it awfully bad, too. I wouldn't take any customer's addressoff a tag; not for all the detectives in the house. But I happen to knowsome one else did."
"But what did she want my address for?" asked Dorothy as quietly as hervoice could speak in spite of her agitation.
"Don't know," replied the clerk, indicating she might be able to guess;"but it might be handy some day. When she gets time to think it over, youknow."
Dorothy was now almost as greatly mystified as she had been when the womanon the train spoke of Tavia. But Miss Allen went to wait on anothercustomer, and when Dorothy ha
d finally succeeded in selecting sometrinkets she left the counter with Miss Allen's words ringing in her ears.
"Whatever does it all mean?" she asked herself. It was some time beforeshe had her answer.