Those Dale Girls

by Frances Carruth Prindle

  CHAPTER II

  It was said of Mr. Dale by those of his friends' wives who felt atliberty to discuss his affairs with their husbands, that his bringing upof his daughters was radically wrong. These whispers of femininedisapproval were occasionally wafted to the seemingly heedless father,who always smiled good-naturedly, yet was apparently blind to theadvantages to be derived from the conventional course of training theyoung, for he continued to pursue his own methods with bland serenity.

  Mrs. Dale had died when the girls were six and seven years oldrespectively. Up to that time they had lived quite like other children,going regularly to school and finding recreation in the pleasures commonto their age and condition. The house in which at that time they livedwas a somewhat pretentious mansion on the water side of Crana Street.Now to live in this sacred precinct, as every one in Radnor knows, givesan immediate claim to distinction. In the eyes of their neighbors,however, the Dales were not distinguished beyond the matter of theirlocality, for the family was not Radnor-bred, and this is an offensetolerated but never condoned in Radnor society.

  The Dales had drifted there from some unheard-of (to Radnor) westerntown soon after the Civil War, while the country was still in a state ofupheaval. Major Dale brought to the readjustment of his business theforce and skill which won for him distinction on the battlefield,gradually transferred his interests from the western town eastward, andtook root in Radnor, where he proceeded to build up a fortune. Notthere, however, but back in Mrs. Dale's old home, some years later, thegirls were born. They came to Radnor as babies, and like their fathertook root; but Mrs. Dale, a semi-invalid, spent much of her time wearilytraversing the country in search of health. She disliked Radnor, andmade no attempt to cultivate the people. During her prolonged absencesthe children remained at home under the care of Bridget, a faithfulservant who had come with them from the west.

  With Mrs. Dale's death the quiet placidity of the children's lifeceased. The house was closed, and Mr. Dale started immediately forCalifornia, taking the girls and Bridget with him. While there he becameinterested in railroad enterprises, which eventually extended throughremote and varied sections of the country and kept him a bird of passagefor many years. He built a private car and took his daughters everywherewith him, to the consternation of Radnor, which was kept informed of themagnate's movements through the medium of the press.

  The girls grew up in an atmosphere of devoted companionship, amongscenes that were ever changing. They lived much in hotels, and for weeksat a time in their private car, "The Hustle," which they never ceased toregard as a fascinating playhouse, and where their father, in the midstof his multitudinous cares, found time to watch their developing naturesand teach them to grow in grace and spirit, as became the daughters of asoldier.

  They were not wholly without lessons, for when they remained for anylength of time in one place Mr. Dale's private secretary was dispatchedto find a good school, in which they were immediately placed; while Mr.Dale, who had theories of his own, trained their eyes to keenobservation of what they saw and their minds to reason out the obscureaccording to their own lights. He was full of wisdom and patience andcounsel, but he had a way of turning on them when they came for adviceand saying, "What do _you_ think?" in a manner that would have beenstartling to the average child, who is apt to think what he is told.This turning the tables began in their teens, whereby they came to haveopinions without being opinionated, for, though requiring them to thinkout every subject carefully, he yet guided them with a firm hand, givingthem in every sort of discussion the wisdom of his wide experience. Hewas a loving, indulgent father, and the girls adored him, but no sternerdisciplinarian ever held sway. Implicit and immediate obedience hedemanded--no questioning of his higher authority.

  He taught them, too, much of the old-world philosophy, which he hadimbibed from extensive reading. They listened to him wonderingly, theireager young minds drinking in the beauty of what he said, but failing atthat age to grasp the breadth and depth of all the truths he told them.Sometimes he almost forgot that they were children.

  When Julie was twenty and Hester nineteen he took them to Europe.Bridget and Peter Snooks completed the party. They roamed about for ayear, and just before they were to sail for home late in the summer Mr.Dale informed the girls that he intended to sell out his large railroadinterests; he was tired of their unsettled life, and thought they wouldall enjoy the novelty of opening their house and taking up their abodein Radnor. Radnor had long ceased to be anything more than a name to thegirls, but the proposition opened up joyous possibilities of "making ahome for Dad."

  "I will take you down to Cousin Nancy's in Virginia when we land," hehad said to them in London, "and leave you there a few weeks; she hasbeen begging for a visit from us this long while. Bridget and I willopen the house in Radnor and get everything in order; then you can comeup and run the establishment and queen it over your old Dad in royalfashion."

  This program had been successfully carried out, except that it couldscarcely be said that the girls ran the establishment, for theresponsibility lay with Bridget, who assumed the duties ofhousekeeper--duties she guarded jealously and performed with such skillthat there was not a better managed house on the water side of CranaStreet. This Radnor people knew through that mysterious agency by whicha neighborhood keeps in touch with itself.

  After years spent in the narrow confines of a car, however luxurious,and the necessarily limited quarters of hotels, the girls reveled in thespacious house, over which they spread themselves in an amusing fashion,sleeping in turn in the various bedrooms by way of getting acquaintedwith them all over again, Julie said, and with reckless prodigalityhanging some portion of their wardrobe in every closet in the house.

  At the end of their first week in Radnor, Hester amused her father bytelling him she thought she should enjoy housekeeping exceedingly ifthey had an elevator, a menu and "The Hustle" side-tracked in the backyard. Reluctantly she admitted that the yard could scarcely be made tohold it, but at least, she suggested airily, he might build a float andanchor the car at their back door on the river. The new life reallyseemed to her incomplete without it.

  Hester at twenty was a laughing, dancing sprite, yet with a certainquaintness and matureness of mind that amused and delighted her father'sfriends. She was slim and dark, with a piquant face and fascinatinghazel eyes that shot out mischievous lights. They were unusual eyes, andvery beautiful with their fringe of long dark lashes; but she did notthink so, and compared them scornfully to a cat's--the only animal shehated. If she could be said to have any vanity it was for her hands,which came in for a considerable share of her attention, and she went tobed in gloves every night of her life.

  Julie, whose hands were not a matter of comment, dispensed with thisbed-time ceremony, and usually devoted most of her time before retiringto a vigorous brushing of her rebellious yellow hair, which, when it waslet alone, rioted all over her head in such babyish curls that herfather always called her "Curly Locks." Her eyes were violet--her lashesand brows dark, like Hester's, which gave her a most remarkable contrastof coloring. From her mother she had inherited a delicate constitution,and lacked the buoyancy of Hester's gay spirits; nevertheless, she had akeen sense of humor and laughed immoderately on all occasions at hersister, whom she considered altogether the cleverest and most amusingperson she knew. And they knew many delightful people from one end ofthe country to the other--everywhere except in Radnor, where society waswaiting for Mr. Dale formally to present his daughters before settingthe seal of its approval upon them.

  The second day following that on which Mr. Dale was brought home ill,Dr. Ware stayed longer than usual with his patient and came out of thesickroom with a grave face. In the hall the girls were waiting for himas usual.

  "My dears," he said, abruptly, drawing them into the library, "you haveto know the worst, and there is no one but me to tell you." For a momenthe hesitated. "Your father's illness is caused by his financialruin--his entire fortune has been swept away.
He has lost everything,and the shock of his failure has paralyzed him." For a moment neitherspoke; each girl felt that she could hear her heart beat in the awfulsilence of the room. Then Julie said:

  "Won't Daddy soon be better? Oh, you can't mean he will always be sicklike this?" Her eyes were black with pain and apprehension.

  "He will never move about again. Physically he may suffer very little;the anguish will come through the consciousness of his helplessness----"

  "We will not let him feel that," interrupted Julie, throwing up herhead. "Hester and I are strong."

  The Doctor cleared his throat. "Thank God for that, for you've a hardfight ahead of you."

  Hester crept close to his side. "Will you tell us more about it,please," she whispered in a strange, tense voice; "it's so--so difficultto understand."

  "Of course it is, dear," putting his arm around her. "Things began to gowrong a year ago. Your father felt it, and nearly abandoned the Europeantrip, then went after all, feeling absolute need of rest and hoping hehad left the snarl sufficiently straightened out to go on without him.But things went from bad to worse, and he came back to morecomplications than any one man could manage. Even then he might havepulled through somehow if that western road in which he had so largelyinvested had not smashed and carried him down with it. You don't wantthe details, Hester."

  "No," she answered, "it is enough that the thing is."

  He looked at her intently, as if astonished that so philosophic astatement should come from so young a person.

  "Shall we have to give up the house, and--and 'The Hustle,'and--everything?" asked Julie.

  "I'm afraid so, Julie dear. That is especially what I want to talk toyou about to-day--your future. I want you to leave it all to me."

  "Oh, no, no!" she cried, "you're good, so good, but we can't do that. Wemust look the future squarely in the face, and bravely, must we not,Hester?" turning appealingly to her sister. "I'm sure that is what Daddywould say."

  "Julie, don't you be afraid; we'll just do everything--somehow!" Hesterflung out her young arms with a sweeping movement as if she meant togather in all their perplexities and conquer them. "If Dr. Ware willhelp us and advise us, we'll try to get our feet down onsomething--somewhere. Yours aren't very big," she said, with a piteousattempt at her old lightness, "but mine are. I feel just now as if Iwere standing on my head, it is all so sudden and so terrible!"

  Dr. Ware rose and put on his coat. "I think you have heard enough forone day," he said. "You seem to be such surprisingly independent youngwomen that I do not know just how I am going to deal with you. But youare to remember this, mind, that whatever I have isyours--everything--though I shall not thrust it upon you. If you haveideas of your own and wish to carry them out, I will help you in everyway in my power. Now I am off," he added, briskly, "and don't you worrytoo much. We have many days yet to talk things over and decide what isbest to do."

  Julie tried to say something, but ended by burying her face in his coatsleeve and sobbing quietly.

  Hester fiercely bit her lip and gulped down the tears that threatened tochoke her. "You are the kindest, best--" she began.

  "Tut, tut, nonsense!" said the Doctor. "Not a word like that, or I shalldesert you entirely." And with a frown on his face that was half a smilehe left the room.