Part 1

Dimple Dallas

The Further Fortunes of a Sweet Little Maid

BY AMY E. BLANCHARD

_Author of "A Sweet Little Maid," "A Dear Little Girl," "Thy Friend Dorothy," "Kittyboy's Christmas," etc._

_ILLUSTRATED BY IDA WAUGH_

PHILADELPHIA GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO 103-105 SOUTH FIFTEENTH STREET

Copyright, 1900, by GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO

TO GWENYTH WAUGH WELL BELOVED FOR HER OWN SAKE, AND FOR THE SAKE ON THOSE WHOSE NAME SHE BEARS

A. E. B.

_CONTENTS_

I. THE NEW SCHOLAR

II. CHANGES

III. TROUBLE WITH DONALD

IV. A NEW DOLL

V. MORE TROUBLE

VI. WHERE IS BUBBLES?

VII. UNCLE HEATH

VIII. SHOPPING

IX. AT CHRISTMAS

X. A HAPPY NEW YEAR

XI. DON AND A PONY

XII. A MAY PARTY

_ILLUSTRATIONS_

BUBBLES TRIED HER BEST TO COMFORT HER

ELEANOR PROCEEDED TO OPEN THE TRUNK

THEY HAD LUNCHEON IN THE LIBRARY

THE TWO LITTLE GIRLS HAD GREAT TIMES PLAYING

BUSY OVER THE CROWN FOR THE QUEEN TO WEAR

Dimple Dallas

_CHAPTER I_

_The New Scholar_

The schoolroom was very quiet except for the whisperings from many rosy lips as the children studied their lessons. Presently Miss Reese tapped the bell and immediately there was more of a commotion as sundry small skirts switched out from between the desks and several little girls took their places in class. Among them was one with fair hair who turned very red when a question was put to her by the teacher. It was Eleanor Dallas' first day in school and she was painfully shy at having to recite before others, for she had always been taught at home, and having no brothers and sisters, she felt that in the presence of twenty or more other girls that it would be impossible for her to remember how to spell _parallel_ or _separate_ or _conscience_, and she spoke so low when Miss Reese asked her a word that she could scarcely be heard.

"A little louder, my dear," said Miss Reese; "I cannot hear you." And then, with all the girls looking at her, and, with a growing uncertainty as to whether impartial were spelled with a _t_ or a _c_, she could not say anything.

A titter ran around the class and poor Eleanor was in a state of abject misery. Miss Reese, however, said kindly, "Never mind, Eleanor, I will excuse you from recitations this first day, and give you a little examination after school."

"She's going to be kept in," whispered Laura Field to the girl next to her, and the words reached Eleanor's ears. She had heard of girls being kept in, and to think the disgrace had fallen upon her this first day. It was almost more than she could bear, and she sat for the rest of the period with downcast eyes to hide the tears which would keep welling up.

Recitations over, the girls flaunted out of the room with many backward glances directed toward the place where Eleanor was sitting with such a miserable little face that Miss Reese, looking up and seeing the trembling lips, felt that something out of the common must be the matter. "Come here, dear," she said. "Are you not feeling well?"

"Yes, Miss Reese," faltered Eleanor.

"I hope none of the girls have been unkind to you. The first day at school is always a trying one. I remember well enough how I felt when I was a little girl. Very much as you do, I fancy." She put her arm around the child and drew her close to her side. "Now," she said, "I will go over to-morrow's lessons with you. Your mamma has told me something of your methods of study, and since you have been using different books from these, it will be better for me to give you some idea of what we are going to do. There, now, these are your nice fresh new books. Shall I put your name in them?"

"If you please," responded Eleanor, quite interested and beginning to forget her shyness. This being kept in wasn't so dreadful after all.

Miss Reese went over all the next day's lessons and as she closed the last book a little negro girl appeared at the door. "Miss Dimple, yo' ma say, what de reason yuh ain't come home?" she said.

"I was kept in," said Eleanor rather shamefacedly.

Miss Reese laughed. "Why, my child, no you were not, at least not with the general intention that kept in means. I simply wanted to have you stay that I might go over the lessons with you. Did you think I meant it for punishment, you poor little girl?"

Eleanor looked up shyly. "I did think so," she answered. "One of the girls----" She stopped short. Her Cousin Florence had told her that it was very, very mean to tell tales about the girls, and that when she went to school she must never do it, or else the girls would dislike her.

Miss Reese noticed the sudden pause and with tact did not pursue the subject. "Now run along," she said. "To-morrow I hope you will have good recitations, and you mustn't be afraid to speak above a whisper."

True enough, the next day Eleanor was so sure of her _tions_ and her _sions_ that she did not miss a single word, and, moreover, she made friends with two of the nicest girls who invited her to come to their own special corner to eat luncheon with them, and in a few days she felt quite at her ease. She had known several of the girls before she entered school and before long she had entirely overcome her shyness of the others. But many of the experiences were novel, especially those which occurred in the big schoolroom where the whole school assembled to take part in the physical exercises, to listen to lectures or to view certain experiments in physics. Eleanor never forgot her first experience when the subject of electricity was before the school, and she was invited to stand upon a board set upon four tumblers, and after a contact with the electrical apparatus found her hair slowly rising on end. Seeing her startled look, one of her best friends among the larger girls, Hattie Spear, dropped on her knees and held out her arms. Eleanor threw herself into them and at the same moment Hattie gave her a kiss, then she gave a little scream and the girls all laughed, for Eleanor had given her friend an electric shock.

It took Mr. Dallas some time to explain the matter to his little daughter that evening, and she watched for the next thunderstorm with much interest, for she wanted to show off all this knowledge to Bubbles. "You know it's electricity that makes the lightning," she told her.

"Law, Miss Dimple, how you know that?" returned Bubbles.

"Papa told me. Just think, Bubbles, it is the same thing that makes the light burn in the electric lamps."

"Is dat so?" Bubbles raised her hands and appeared to be much impressed. Then after some moments given to thought, she said, "What you say de name of de man what makes de street lights, and de lightnin'? Mr. Elick Cristy? Whar he live?"

Eleanor looked at her quite puzzled, and then she laughed, but she did not offer any explanation, for at that moment her mother called her. But after that Bubbles always spoke of Mr. Elick Cristy's lights out on the street corner.

Eleanor's pet name at home was Dimple, but Mrs. Dallas felt that there was danger of her little daughter's becoming altogether known by it, and had asked Miss Reese to call her Eleanor. Dimple felt that this was a step toward young ladyhood, and was very particular to instruct Bubbles to call her Miss Eleanor upon every occasion. But Bubbles would forget and upon the very first rainy day appeared at school with an umbrella for "Miss Dimple."

"That's a funny little colored girl," said one of Eleanor's schoolmates. "I've seen her often but I never knew that she lived at your house."

"She has lived with us ever since I was a baby. She is quite a nice child," returned Eleanor in a dignified little way. "Come here, Bubbles, and put on my waterproof."

"Miss Dimple, yo' ma give me a ribbon fo' Floridy Alabamy, dis mawnin', an' she got one fo' you too," said Bubbles in a confidential tone.

"Has she?" returned Dimple indifferently. "You may carry my books, Bubbles. I am going to walk with Janet." Bubbles took the books and trotted along obediently behind the two girls. Janet was a new arrival in town and being lately entered at school Eleanor had a fellow feeling for her.

"Do you ever play with her?" asked Janet. "And she calls you Dimple; what does she do that for?"

"They call me that at home, and, yes, I play with her sometimes."

"Oh, do you?" said Janet looking surprised. "I believe I'll call you Dimple," she added.

"No, please don't. Mamma doesn't want any one to, because she says when I grow up it will sound ridiculous."

"All right, then I won't," Janet returned. "I wish you would come over to my house this afternoon."

"Oh, no, you come to mine. We can play out in my little house in the garden, even if it does rain."

"Have you a little playhouse?"

"Yes, one all my own. Papa had it built for me."

Janet was much impressed. "I'll come," she said. And the two little girls parted to meet an hour later.

It was Friday afternoon, and there were no lessons to be studied, and therefore Eleanor counted on having a fine time. "Mamma," she said, as she entered the house, "I have a new friend, at least I haven't known her very long and she has never been to see me, but she is coming this afternoon. Her name is Janet Forrester. She lives in that yellow house on Main Street, you know, the one by the church."

"Yes, I know."

"She hasn't been living in town very long, and that's why she doesn't know many people. Do you know her mother?"

"Only slightly. I have called upon her. I hope Janet is a good little girl, and one that is proper for you to associate with."

"Oh yes, she is. She wears lovely clothes, and her father keeps a carriage."

Mrs. Dallas smiled. "I don't think we can judge by either of those things. You would better play in your own little house, for your papa has come home feeling far from well, and I should like to keep the house quiet."

Eleanor looked distressed. "Oh, mamma, is he very ill? Will he have to have a doctor?"

"He will see Doctor Sullivan, but I hope he is not very ill. When your little friend has gone, come and tell me about your afternoon together, but try not to disturb me while I am with papa."

Eleanor promised, and then went down to her playhouse in the garden. It was a pretty place, and the little girl was justly proud of it. She spent much time there, and here she kept her toys, her favorite books and dolls, and here she most frequently entertained her little friends.

It was not long before Bubbles showed Janet into the room. Bubbles, too, was very proud of Miss Dimple's playhouse, and she had quite a grand air as she ushered this new acquaintance into the presence of the owner of the house, saying: "Company, Miss Dimple."

Janet looked around with a critical air, and was immediately seized with a feeling of envy. "It's a right nice little house," she said loftily, "but it isn't as big as the one I had at home in Hartford; and I had real lace curtains to my windows, and Turkey rugs on the floor. Oh, there's only one room, isn't there? My house had two. Do you keep your horse and carriage in that stable, I see out there?"

"No," Eleanor was obliged to confess. "We haven't any horse and carriage. We keep a cow and chickens, though."

"I had a pony and a little cart of my own," said Janet grandly. "How many dolls have you?"

"Six, I think."

"I have twenty. You're not going to let that nigger girl stay in here with us, are you?"

"Why, yes. She often used to play with my Cousin Florence and me."

"My mother doesn't let me play with servants," said Janet with a little haughty air.

Bubbles looked much crestfallen, but immediately retired when Eleanor said: "You needn't stay, Bubbles."

"Now, what shall we play?" said Eleanor, left alone with her guest and intent upon pleasing her.

"We'll pretend we are countesses or duchesses or something. No I choose to be a duchess, and you can be a countess. I'm company and I must be the finest lady. Duchesses are more important than countesses."

Eleanor didn't think this was very polite, but she yielded, and, furthermore, gave up her best doll to her guest. "My best doll is bigger than this," Janet remarked, "and she has a real gold chain to wear around her neck. Haven't you more than one silk dress for yours? All my dolls' dresses are silk. I think a duchess's child ought to be dressed in silk. I will have to pretend her clothes are much finer than they really are."

They played quite happily for a time, although Eleanor did not quite like the giving up of all her choicest things to her visitor, but she had been taught that her guests must always have the best of everything and she made no objections. It was toward the latter part of the afternoon that Janet suddenly exclaimed: "Oh, where is my pearl ring? It's gone."

"Really?" said Eleanor.

"Yes, I believe that servant girl, you call Bubbles, has stolen it."

"Oh, no, she couldn't have done that," Eleanor protested, quite shocked. "Not if you had it on when you came in here, and besides she wouldn't do such a thing."

"I don't know about that; anyhow, I had it on when I left home."

"Perhaps you dropped it somewhere. Let's look for it; you see it has stopped raining." But no amount of searching revealed the ring, and Janet repeated her charges against Bubbles.

"I'm just going to hunt her up, and tell her she's got it, and I'll make her give it back to me," she said.

"Oh, no, please," begged Eleanor; "I know she wouldn't take it."

"Just tell me this then. Has she never taken anything in all her life?"

Eleanor hesitated. Once Bubbles had possessed herself of some scraps which she coveted for doll clothes, but her offence had never been repeated, and Mrs. Dallas trusted her implicitly. "I know she hasn't taken it," repeated Eleanor, much distressed.

"You're just trying to shield her," said Janet. "I'm going home and get my father to send a police officer after her; that's what I'm going to do." And she flounced out leaving Eleanor in tears. Such a dreadful threat and poor Bubbles; perhaps she would have to go to prison. Eleanor's soft little heart was wrung at the thought, and she rushed up to the house to find her mother and pour the doleful tale in her ears.

_CHAPTER II_

_Changes_

Mrs. Dallas greeted Eleanor's tempestuous entrance with, "Softly, dear, you know papa is not well." Eleanor lowered her excited tones and poured forth her grievance, Mrs. Dallas listening quietly. At the close of the recital she said: "I am sorry, my child, that it has happened, and from what you tell me, I do not think Janet will prove to be just the kind of a friend you would prefer. I think the best plan will be for me to send a note to Mrs. Forrester and tell her that we will use every means to find the ring, and ask her to let us know if it is discovered at her own home."

"Please don't let Bubbles take the note."

"No, I will not. I am going to send a prescription to the drug store, and the note can be taken at the same time, but if Bubbles does not take it, I think you will have to."

"O, mamma, I don't want to. Can't Sylvy go?"

"I cannot spare her."

Eleanor was silent for a moment. She did not want to subject Bubbles to a possible wordy attack from Janet, and yet she dreaded seeing her late companion again. But her loyalty to Bubbles at last overcame all other feeling, and she said: "I don't have to go in, do I, mamma? I can leave the note at the door?"

"Yes, that will be quite sufficient."

"Then I will go instead of Bubbles."

Her mother smiled. "I thought you would decide it so. I can generally be sure of my little daughter's good heart."

"You don't believe Bubbles took the ring, do you, mamma?"

"No, I think Janet has probably dropped it somewhere."

Eleanor started off on her errand, and after going to the drug store, she went on to deliver the note, and reached the gate just in time to meet Mrs. Forrester coming out with Janet. The two little girls looked at each other in rather an embarrassed way. It was not an agreeable meeting for either of them.

"This is one of your little school friends, isn't it, Janet?" Mrs. Forrester asked. "Oh, you have a note for me? Wait a minute."

Eleanor would rather have made her escape at once, but she obediently remained while Mrs. Forrester read the note. "Why, I don't know anything about this," said the lady. "What does your mamma mean? What ring is it she mentions?"

"Janet lost a pearl ring at our house," Eleanor answered.

"Did she? I didn't know she had one," said Mrs. Forrester laughing. "That is one of your fairy tales, Janet."

"I did have a pearl ring, and that nigger girl stole it," Janet returned.

Eleanor flushed up. "She means Bubbles, and I know she didn't steal it."

"You are a silly little creature, Janet," said Mrs. Forrester airily. "Where did you get your valuable ring?"

"I bought it for five cents."

Mrs. Forrester laughed again. "So precious it must have been. Here, take this five cents and go buy another, and that will end the matter."

"I don't want another, I want that one."

"You spoiled child, I don't believe you did lose it, you just wanted me to give you the nickel." She turned to Eleanor. "Don't pay any more attention to it, my child," she said. "It is really of no consequence."

"Her name is Dimple," broke in Janet.

"My name is Eleanor," maintained the other, sturdily.

"It's of no consequence, Dimple," Mrs. Forrester said. "You can tell your mother that Janet has her ring."

"But she hasn't," said Eleanor in surprise.

"She will have as soon as we can go to the shop and get it."

This sort of reasoning was quite new to Eleanor, and she stood stock still puzzling over it. While she stood thus a housemaid came out with something in her hand. "You left this in the sitting-room on the windowsill," she said to Janet, holding out a little trumpery ring. Janet shot one look at Eleanor, and Eleanor with a dignified "Good-evening," turned away thoroughly disgusted with this new acquaintance, and it is safe to say that Bubbles was immediately informed of the finding of the ring, and was, moreover, told that Eleanor did not intend to play with Janet any more, a fact which pleased Bubbles mightily.

The next few days, however, were very anxious ones for Mrs. Dallas, for her husband was found to have a severe attack of rheumatic fever, and even after he was pronounced better, his recovery was so slow that at last the doctor said he must go away to some famous springs in the far west. The day after this was decided upon, Mrs. Dallas called Eleanor to her. "My little girl," she said, "I am going to ask you to do a very hard thing for papa and me."

Eleanor looked up with wide open blue eyes. "Of course I'll do it, mamma."

"Wait, dear, till you know what it is. You know the doctor says papa must go away; now, I do not feel as if he were well enough to travel that distance alone, besides, in every way it would be better for me to go with him. He is greatly depressed, and if he were to go off alone he would mope and be homesick, and the trip would not do him the good that it ought to. Now, dear, it will be a very expensive journey and it will not be possible for us to take our little daughter, and besides, now that she is fairly started in school we do not want her to be interrupted, so dear----"

"Oh mamma!" came with piteous entreaty.

Mrs. Dallas put her arm around the child and drew her close to her. "Darling, you do not know how hard it is going to be for me to leave you."

Eleanor winked away her tears. "Oh mamma, why can't I go to Aunt Eleanor's and go to school with Florence?"

"Because several of your Aunt Eleanor's children have the whooping-cough. Florence was the last to succumb, so a letter from Aunt Eleanor to-day told me, and you know your Uncle Heath and Aunt Dora have gone to California to look after some business there that must be settled up, and Rock will be sent to boarding-school, so you cannot go to them."

"And shall you leave me here all alone?"

"No, indeed; papa and I have talked it over and we have decided to ask Cousin Ellen Murdoch to come here with her family, and remain while we are gone."

"She is the one whose husband died a little while ago and left her with--how many children?"

"Four. Yes, she is the one."

"But, mamma----"

"Well, dear."

"I thought--I didn't know that you were very fond of her."

Mrs. Dallas smiled. "Perhaps I am not so fond of her as I am of some persons."

"Then why do you let her come to your house?"

"Because she needs a change of scene, and it would be a good thing for her if she could come here till her affairs are straightened out. It is not only toward those we like that we should show consideration. We ought not to be so selfish as to entertain only those persons who are agreeable to us. If a person needs our sympathy we ought to offer it in whatever way we can."

"Do you think I ought to entertain Janet?"

"No," answered Mrs. Dallas smiling, "I don't think she needs your consideration; if she were in trouble and you could do her a kindness I think you should do it. Some day you may have an opportunity of doing some such thing, and then I hope you will not hesitate to do it."

"Mamma."

"Well, dear?"

"Was Cousin Ellen ever hateful to you?"

"You mustn't ask such searching questions, dear child. All you have to do is to make it as pleasant as possible for her while she is here. She has had much trouble and sorrow, but I know she will take excellent care of you, and the rest we must not think about. Sylvy and Bubbles will be here and you will be in your own home."

"But, mamma, I shall miss you so."

"And I shall miss you, my pet." They hugged each other, but when Eleanor felt tears splash down from other eyes than her own she squeezed her mother tighter and said: "Please don't cry, mamma, I will be very good, I will so."