CHAPTER XXV

AN EMERGENCY CASE

“There’s a special messenger,” exclaimed Dorothy, with a little flutter.  “I hope there’s nothing the matter—­”

The boy with the bag strapped over his shoulder had dismounted from his muddy bicycle, and was now at the door of the Cedar mansion.

Tavia slipped through the hedge after Dorothy.  It seemed the message must be from Dalton, somehow, and she too, like Dorothy, felt a trifle agitated.

The maid had answered the ring, and now the boy was wandering along the path, content that his time-mark allowed a few moments for such recreation.

Mrs. White appeared on the piazza presently.  Dorothy and Tavia were within its portals, waiting to be summoned.

“My dear,” began the hostess, “I have just received a message from Major Dale.  He wants you to come home—­at once.  He is called to Rochester on important business, and as he says Mrs. Martin is not well, so he cannot leave without having his little housekeeper in charge of things—­ Dorothy, you are a real Dale, able at your age to keep house.”

“Aunt Libby sick,” was Dorothy’s first thought and exclamation.

“The Rochester case,” declared Tavia.  “That means the Burlock mystery is going to be cleared up.”

“The major did not, of course, hint at the nature of his business, but I am really so sorry to lose you just now.  And the boys at camp—­they will be painfully disappointed,” said Mrs. White.

“We have had a perfectly splendid time,” declared Dorothy, “and I am sure we can hardly thank you for your—­attention.  You have so many calls upon your time and you did all that shopping for us.”

“My dear,” and the aunt tilted Dorothy’s chin to kiss it, “that was a real dissipation.  To shop for my own girls.  Why, it made me feel like a youngster, myself.  And besides, I had orders from Dalton.”

“Even so,” insisted Dorothy, showing some surprise at the word “orders.”  “It took a lot of time and it was such a warm day.  But you did a great deal more than that for us, Aunt Winnie, you must remember how much I can do, too, and give me a chance some day, when you want a rest.”

“Bless the baby’s heart!  Hear her talk!” and the woman in the soft gray robe threw her arms about Dorothy.  “All the same, when my heart gets unconquerably lonely for my daughter, I shall command her to come to me.”

Tavia was “standing afar off.”  Her burning cheeks grew more scarlet every moment, and were plainly a matter of great embarrassment to her.  She did want to offer her thanks with those of Dorothy, but somehow, her words were scorched when they reached her lips, and they “stuck there.”

“My dear,” exclaimed Mrs. White, presently noticing Tavia’s confusion.  “Have you been in poison ivy?  Your cheeks show a poison!”

“Only mullen leaves,” answered Tavia promptly, relieved to have made the confession without further parleying.