CHAPTER XVIDOROTHY HOPES AGAIN
Dorothy tried vainly to hold in check the wild hope that leaped within her.
“What news?” she repeated as steadily as she could. Then she turned pleadingly to the strange man who stood behind the news stand. “Oh, if you have anything to tell me about my brother, please, please, do!” she cried.
The man looked puzzled till the young Italian explained in his own tongue. Then his face brightened.
“’Bout the boy you want to know, eh?” he asked in broken English. “I tell you all I know—but it is not very much.”
“Yes?” pleaded Dorothy in an agony of impatience. She had yet to learn that the Italian could not be hurried in his broken speech and that interruption only impeded his naturally slow progress.
“He seem strange to me, dat boy,” he continued, squinting his eyes in a dreamy fashion. “He did not act like a boy his age should act——”
“What was he like—this boy?” interrupted Dorothy again.
Her informant regarded her in pained surprise and, after some difficulty and more interpretation by his young countryman, he made out the meaning of her question.
Then, in his maddeningly deliberate way, he described the lad who had caught his interest—described him down to the very suit of clothes he had been wearing. Dorothy’s excitement and impatience increased almost past bearing as she realized that this lad could have been none other than her beloved runaway brother.
“Don’t hurry him, Doro,” whispered Tavia in her ear, as excited as Dorothy herself. “Can’t you see it only confuses him? Let him tell it his own way.”
Dorothy nodded and leaned eagerly across the counter toward her informant.
“Did he—did you—speak to this boy?”
The face of the man lit up and he nodded eagerly.
“I feel sorry for him,” he explained. “He look so scared and—lonesome.”
A little sob broke from Dorothy but she immediately checked it.
“Oh, go on, please go on!” she begged. “What did you say to him?”
“I ask him if he is all alone,” the Italianresponded, more readily than he had yet done. “He say, yes, all alone an’ he want to go to Desert City.”
The two girls started and stared at each other.
“What did I tell you?” cried Dorothy radiantly, then immediately turned back to the man. “What did he do then? Please tell me quickly,” she begged.
“I tol’ him nearest station to Desert City, Dugonne,” he paused and regarded the girls beamingly as though proud of his knowledge, and in spite of Tavia’s warning pressure on her arm Dorothy could not stand the delay.
“Of course we know that,” she said. “Please go on!”
“He say he no have money to buy ticket——”
Tavia gave a little exclamation of pity and this time it was Dorothy who held up her hand for silence.
“I say I lend him ten cents——”
“Ten cents!” repeated Tavia hysterically. “But ten cents wouldn’t take him ten miles——”
“But he have all the rest himself,” explained the Italian, with the air of one who has told the answer to a clever riddle. “All he need more than he got, ten cents. I give him.”
“It was more than kind of you,” cried Dorothy gratefully. “I can give you the ten cents, but I can never repay your kindness.”
With the words she got out her purse and from it took some money which she extended toward Joe’s benefactor. He seemed reluctant at first to take it, but, upon Dorothy’s insistence, overcame his scruples.
They had turned away after repeated expressions of thanks when suddenly Dorothy broke away from Tavia and ran back again.
“There is just one more thing I should like to ask you,” she said breathlessly. “Do you know whether my brother actually bought a ticket to Dugonne as he intended to?”
The Italian shook his head and shrugged his shoulders in that exaggerated gesture of regret.
“I cannot tell, Miss. He went off in the crowd. I never see him again.”
So Dorothy had to be content with the information she had. As a matter of fact, she was more than satisfied. She was jubilant.
Not only had her suspicions concerning Joe’s intention proved correct, but now she had some definite clue to work on. No more suspense, no more delay. They would take the very next train to Dugonne.
Dorothy’s heart bounded with relief—and another feeling. For at Desert City she would see Garry again. And it would be good to see Garry!
“Well, you have gone and done it this time,” Tavia greeted her jubilantly. “I am here to tellthe world you are some sleuth, Dorothy Dale. You certainly have brought home the bacon.”
“Tavia, such slang!” cried Dorothy, but she almost sang the words. “I wish you could sing my praises in more ladylike terms.”
“You should worry as long as they get sung!” retorted the light-hearted Tavia. “I suppose Dugonne is our next stop,” she added, looking at Dorothy with dancing eyes.
“The Blenheim,” corrected Dorothy, with a shake of her head. “We must at least take time to get our grips and pay the hotel bill.”
“Thus is adventure always spoiled by such sordid things,” sighed Tavia. “But if we must we must.”
Upon reaching the hotel they checked out immediately and, by consulting a time-table, found that they could get a train for Dugonne in half an hour.
“Here’s luck,” said Tavia. “No painful waiting around while you wonder what to do.”
“We do seem to be running in luck to-day,” replied Dorothy. “I have an absurd desire to knock wood every few minutes for fear it will desert us,” she admitted.
“The wood?” giggled Tavia.
“The luck, you silly,” retorted Dorothy, adding with a significant glance at Tavia’s headunder the saucy small hat: “And I wouldn’t have to look very far for the wood at that!”
“You can be cruel when you wish, Doro. Though no one would guess it to look at you.”
The train started on time and they found to their further joy that it was possible even at this last moment to engage berths in the Pullman.
They found themselves comfortably settled, their baggage stowed away, and the train on its way in a miraculously short time.
“Thank goodness we managed to avoid saying a fond farewell to your friend Stanley Blake and his companion.”
“My friend, indeed!” Dorothy retorted indignantly. “I’d like to know how you get that way, Tavia Travers!”
“Such terrible slang,” murmured Tavia incorrigibly.
“Who was it, I would like to know, who encouraged those two, anyway—I mean at first?”
“Well, you ought to be grateful to me,” returned Tavia, opening her big eyes. “If I hadn’t encouraged them, as you call it, we might never have found out their deep dark secret. Then where would your precious Garry be, I’d like to know?”
Dorothy threw up her hands and gave in.
“No use. You are absolutely hopeless,” she cried, and Tavia grinned wickedly.
“Have some candy?” she asked, extending the box she had been thoughtful enough to buy at the station, hoping thus to change the subject. And she was successful, for who can find fault with a person when benefiting by her generosity?
“I feel as though I should have sent a telegram to Garry, warning him of Joe’s descent upon him,” Dorothy said, after awhile. “It would be rather a shock if Joe walked in on him unannounced.”
“But then if Joe doesn’t appear per schedule Garry would be worried and so would you,” Tavia pointed out. “No, Doro dear, I think you have done wisely to let well enough alone. It seems to me we have done all we can do for the present.”
Almost before they knew it came the second call for lunch, and the girls rose to go to the dining car.
They had to pass through several cars to reach the diner, and at the next to the last Tavia stopped short, almost upsetting Dorothy, who followed close behind her.
“Dorothy!” she said in a queer voice. “Do you see what I see?”