• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Half Title
 Frontispiece
 Title Page
 Chapter I
 Chapter II
 Chapter III
 Chapter IV
 Chapter V
 Chapter VI
 Chapter VII
 Chapter VIII
 Chapter IX
 Chapter X
 Chapter XI
 Chapter XII
 Chapter XIII
 Back Cover
 Spine














Title: Dear daughter Dorothy
CITATION THUMBNAILS PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00080009/00001
 Material Information
Title: Dear daughter Dorothy
Physical Description: 190 p., 7 leaves of plates : ill. ; 18 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Plympton, A. G ( Almira George ), b. 1852
Roberts Brothers (Boston, Mass.) ( Publisher )
John Wilson and Son ( Printer )
University Press (Cambridge, Mass.) ( Publisher )
Publisher: Roberts Brothers
Place of Publication: Boston
Manufacturer: University Press ; John Wilson and Son
Publication Date: 1891
 Subjects
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Fathers and daughters -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Landlords -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Widowers -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
College teachers -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Aunts -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Judges -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Trials -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1891
Genre: novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
United States -- Massachusetts -- Cambridge
 Notes
Statement of Responsibility: by A.G. Plympton ; illustrated by the author.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00080009
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002236094
notis - ALH6563
oclc - 04906138

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
        Front Cover 3
    Half Title
        Page 1
    Frontispiece
        Page 2
    Title Page
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Chapter I
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
    Chapter II
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
    Chapter III
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
    Chapter IV
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
    Chapter V
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 60a
        Page 61
        Page 62
    Chapter VI
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        page 68a
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
    Chapter VII
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 88a
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
    Chapter VIII
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 112a
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
    Chapter IX
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
    Chapter X
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
    Chapter XI
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 158a
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
    Chapter XII
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
    Chapter XIII
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
Full Text




















DEAR DAUGHTER DOROTHY.











































































"This is no night for a child to be out"-Pay 8.


P-








DEAR DAUGHTER DOROTHY.

BY A. G. PLYMPTON.

EflHstratet bp tbre utbmr.


l ; ,.






BOSTON:
ROBERTS BROTHERS.
1891.






























Copyright, .8go,
By A. G. PLYMPTON.
























SnibSraitg Srtoe:
JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE.












DEAR DAUGHTER DOROTHY.



CHAPTER I.

THE rain was driving in sheets
from the northwest, and the
wind howling dismal prophecies of
winter, as a carriage, one rough night
in November, stopped at the door of
Mrs. Kipp's boarding-house on Sun-
shine Street. It happened, at the mo-
ment, that Mrs. Kipp herself stood
looking out of her front-parlor window,
and discerned, by the light from the
lamp-post, a young man descend from
the carriage carefully carrying a soft
bundle.







6 Dear Daughter Dorothy.

"This must be the gentleman from
the South who wishes to take my
fourth-story front," was Mrs. Kipp's
conclusion; and in a moment more
Jane had ushered the stranger into
the room with the words, -
"A gentleman, mum, to see you."
He was a -tall, fine-looking young
man, with a crop of crisp curls and
a pair of handsome, though rather sad-
looking, dark eyes.
The bundle, which was well wrapped
up in a travelling-shawl, he tenderly
deposited beside him upon the sofa.
Heavens and earth!" exclaimed the
good woman; it's a baby!"
Yes, a demure little creature, with
soft gold-brown curls and serious eyes,
and a smile which disclosed four little
white teeth, and which went so straight
to Mrs. Kipp's warm heart that it was







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


with the greatest difficulty she could
say, -
This is Mr. Thorpe, I suppose.
Well, I wrote you that you could have
my fourth-story front, but you said
nothing about bringing a baby with
you. If you had, I should have replied
at once that I never take children into
my house."
A-goo! gurgled the smiling baby.
No; the other boarders object to
them, so I 've made it my rule, and
I must abide by it."
It's very unfortunate for me," re-
plied the pensive young man. It never
occurred to me that she would be an ob-
jection. I even hoped that for a further
compensation you would be willing to
take charge of her during the day when
I must be away from her. However, if
this is your rule, I will not detain you.







8 Dear Daughter Dorothy.

Come, little Dorothy!" As he spoke,
he lifted the baby again in his strong
young arms, from which height she
looked down upon little Mrs. Kipp
and gurgled gleefully.
Mrs. Kipp followed them out into
the hall. The rain was driving against
the glass lights in the front door, which
a sudden gust of wind rattled angrily.
Goodness gracious !" cried the poor
woman, aghast at the thought of the
delicate baby-girl weathering such a
storm, and speaking right from her
motherly heart, this is no night for
a child to be out. I think you had
better stay here until to-morrow, Mr.
Thorpe, when you can leave her with
me while you find rooms to suit you.
Let me take her now, and you go
and tell the hackman to bring in your
trunks."







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


The truth is, Mrs. Kipp's fingers
were fairly itching to squeeze the win-
some baby. She took her from the
young man's arms; and little Dorothy
with baby wisdom at once discovered
she had found a friend, a discovery
which caused her to nestle her head on
the good woman's shoulder and stroke
her cheek with her soft dimpled hand.
The following day, when Mr. Thorpe
returned from his fruitless search, Mrs.
Kipp, now thoroughly conquered by
Dorothy's charms, informed him that
she had no further objection to his re-
maining permanently with the child in
her fourth-story front; and here, with
the addition of the little hall-room
adjoining, the two made a home for
themselves.
It was suggested to Mr. Thorpe,
when Dorothy's mother died, that it







10 Dear Daughter Dorothy.

would be necessary for him to give the
child into the care of a woman. But
the broken-hearted young father clung
to the baby as his only comforter.
Poor little Dorothy had neither grand-
mother nor aunt; and no stranger, he
thought, could have such tenderness for
her as he who shared her loss. So
when a position was offered him in
Boston, he packed up little white frocks
and dainty garments with his own per-
sonal possessions, and set out for the
North with Baby Dorothy upon his
arm. To others it might have seemed
a strange thing that in beginning this
new work he should hamper himself
with a helpless infant, but he knew that
it was only for her that he had heart to
work at all.
He was a very young papa, and in
cases of emergency he had no valuable







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


experience of children to fall back upon;
but fortunately the baby was a wonder
of health and good-nature, and even at
this early age proved herself a good
traveller.
There is something very touching in
the sight of a big man's tender care of
a delicate little child, and their fellow-
passengers took the friendliest interest
in the odd pair. Dorothy was con-
stantly borrowed by the ladies, and car-
ried off to be fondled and amused; and
she responded with sweet baby smiles
to all their advances. All the children
made friends with her; and even the
gruff old soldier, who growled quite
rudely upon her first appearance on
the car, soon became reconciled to
her company, and rattled his newspa-
per to amuse her, in condescending
playfulness. Dorothy's first journey







12 Dear Daughter Dorothy.

was a long one; but she bore it brave-
ly, and laughed and crowed, eat and
slept, in blissful unconsciousness of all
discomfort.
The truth is, she was a most engag-
ing baby, with the sweetest little face in
the world, and a disposition to make
the best of things. It really seemed as
if she understood that she was being
brought up by a man instead of in the
usual way by women and nurses, and
made it as easy as she could for him.
She slept just as comfortably under his
ragged old dressing-gown as if covered
by the daintiest afghan, took kindly
to tobacco-smoke, and did not repine
when her lullabies were whistled to her.
Her consideration was still further
shown by the fact that whatever her
private woes might be she never cried
over them, and she devoted herself to







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


the duty of growing up as fast as pos-
sible, which you must admit was the
cleverest thing a baby in her circum-
stances could do.
The admission of little Dorothy into
Mrs. Kipp's household was a reckless
innovation, and it was with fear and
trembling that the dear old creature
announced that a baby had become a
permanent member of it. How did she
know but Mrs. Le Grand, an invalid
of extreme nervous irritability who had
boarded with her for years and years,
would declare her first floor vacant!
And there was the Professor, who was
writing a book and disturbed by every
passing sound,-what would he say to
it? The Professor detested children,
and declared on the spot that he would
not stay in the house to be annoyed by
a fretful child; and as for the lady, she







14 Dear Daughter Dorothy.
wept and accused Mrs. Kipp of having
no consideration for her sufferings.
But one day the Professor was seen
pushing a perambulator upon the pave-
ment, and after that there was no further
talk of his leaving Mrs. Kipp; and Mrs.
Le Grand even forgot her nerves in
cuddling the cooing baby. As the
child grew older, she became still more
interesting, and her funny speeches were
the delight of the whole household.
She was, it is true, rather an odd
little girl, and talked as nearly as she
could like her papa, whom she adored,
and who regarded her more and more,
as the years flew by, as a dear comrade.
So close was their companionship that
some one once playfully dubbing them
Thorpe and Company, the name was
unanimously adopted.
This familiarity between the two







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


often troubled "Auntie Kipp," who
thought that the usual relation of father
and child would be better for Dorothy,
who she declared was fast growing into
a little old woman.
But when she expostulated with Mr
Thorpe, what did this singular parent
do but discuss this question, as he did
all others, with Dorothy herself, who
promptly declared Auntie Kipp's fears
to be groundless.
"You see he is such a very young
papa," she sweetly explained, "and I am
so much older than most persons of
eight years," -Dorothy always spoke
of herself as a person, "that after all
we are very nearly of an age."
She was such a thoughtful little girl,
looking out for every one's comfort in
such a sweet way, and taking up one
care after another so successfully, that







16 Dear Daughter Dorothy.

by the time she had reached the age
of eight she had really a great many
responsibilities.
At the end of every month her father
on his return from the office gave the
month's salary-"our salary" as Dorothy
called it- right into her small hands;
and Dorothy laid aside the exact sum
for the fourth-story front," and another
sum for the laundress, and perhaps a
few dollars for a hat for papa or a new
frock for herself, and prudently tucked
the rest in the old portemonnaie to last
till the next pay-day came round.
Mrs. Kipp was horrified indeed when
this plan came to her knowledge, and
she prophesied that Mr. Thorpe's ruin
would be the result of it. But Dorothy
declared that with his mind so occupied
with the great poem he was writing, he
ought not to be worried with the care of







Dear Daughler Dorothy.


money, and insisted that she could make
it go as far as any one.
But though different from other little
girls of her age as Dorothy certainly
was, Mrs. Kipp consoled herself with
the thought that she had too loving a
heart to be spoiled, and for cleverness
there was not her equal in Boston.
As for her father, with his scribbling
and his fiddling," such were Mrs. Kipp's
own words, he is the very moral of
those pale geniuses you read about, and
with no more sense, dear young gentle-
man for getting on in the world."
Scribbling and fiddling Well, it was
fortunate for Mrs. Kipp that Dorothy
never heard this disrespectful sentence.
With all her loving little heart she be-
lieved him to be gifted with the highest
genius. She was sure that the violin
had never been played as he played it.
2







18 Dear Daughter Dorothy.

Every evening she brought it to him
and sat at his feet, with her soft thought-
ful eyes on his face, as he made it sing
to her the beautiful harmonies that filled
his soul. Its sweet voice had sung her
earliest lullabies, for often in her baby-
hood he had sat by her cradle and lulled
her to sleep with its aid. Dorothy could
not think of the dear violin as other than
a living friend. She spoke of it always
as Herr von Stein; and her papa, humor-
ing her whim, also spoke of it as Herr
von Stein. The name of Von Stein
she had selected in memory of a dear
friend of her father, who had given the
violin to him years ago in Germany.
As for the first name it was Herr, "after
Herr Beethoven," she told Thorpe senior,
who enjoyed the joke by himself, and
did not explain that this was not a
proper name at all, but signified in







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


German the same as the English pre-
fix Mr."
Her father's poems, however they
were regarded by the cold world, were
masterpieces in the partial eyes of his
little daughter. While he was writing
them, she often sat quietly by his side
waiting for the happy moment when she
could number the pages, which was
always her share in the work; and you
may be sure that the little figures were
made with scrupulous care, that no ugly
characters should mar the beauty of
the pages.













CHAPTER II.


ONE sunshiny morning Thorpe and
Company were crossing Boston
Common on their way to the office.
It was their usual route in fair weather,
and their faces had become familiar
to many a grave man of business, who
smiled as he passed tall, handsome
Robert Thorpe, and the slip of a girl
whom he called his junior partner.
Dorothy was so small of her age that
the Mother Hubbard cloak and the
simple white muslin cap which she
wore tied down over the pretty gold-
brown curls seemed the most suitable
costume that could be devised for her;
but they were worn solely to gratify







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


a whim of her papa, and were pri-
vately considered by the wearer as very
ridiculous for -a person of eight years.
It was a pity that the senior member
of the firm being so tall and the junior
member so very short, they were un-
able to walk arm in arm, and also
that Dorothy's little feet had to take
so many steps to every stride of her
companion; but for all that, it cannot
be denied that they had the air of
true comrades.
Papa," Dorothy began in an earnest
voice, as they turned from the noisy
street into the Common, "how I do
wish we could get a position to travel,
-just in the nice warm countries, you
know. It does n't seem as if your cough
grew a bit better, and the doctor said
this would be the surest way to cure
it. Besides, I am getting rather tired of








22 Dear Daughter Dorothy.

being a bookkeeper; those horrid figures
are so tiresome, and give you so many
headaches. And then it -takes so long
to get rich. I suppose we ought to be
grateful that we have our salary every
month; but it is never quite enough,
you know, and of course we ought not
to be so grateful as if it were more.
I have given up all hopes now of Jon-
athan Black & Brother ever raising
our salary; have n't you, papa ? "
"They do not appreciate us, that's
a fact, my Dorothy. But you are right;
we are not getting on at all. We are
still poor as rats; but what can be done
about it?"
Well, suppose we send our poem to
another publisher. It has not been sent
to nearly so many as the novel or the
play. Let's send the poem again, papa."
The fine dark eyes of Dorothy's







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


father took an expression of deep mel-
ancholy, but he answered in the same
bantering tone, The publishers don't
appreciate us either, my darling."
There is something very queer
about publishers," remarked Dorothy,
with a puzzled frown on her pretty
white forehead. I think perhaps they
are not cultivated, because Miss Millei
says that one has to cultivate the mind
before one can 'preciate the great poets.
I suppose poetry is like tomatoes. You
have to learn to like it, and it takes a
long time. Now there is Betty, you
know; she is a splendid chambermaid,
but she doesn't 'preciate Shakspeare.
It was only yesterday morning, when
she was doing up our room, that I read
her a part of the play you like, papa, -
' Orfellow,' that's the name, is n't it ? -
and when I asked her if she was en-







24 Dear Daughter Dorothy.

joying it, she said, 'Well, it do be a bit
dull, miss.' You see her mind has not
been cultivated."
Did you enjoy it yourself, Doro-
thy? Thorpe senior smilingly inquired.
"Well, no, papa, not very much;
but I like ours. I don't mean to be
discouraged, though, but remember the
tomatoes, and read right on. When I
have cultivated my mind I shall enjoy
Shakspeare too. It would be more in-
teresting now, I dare say, if I did not
have to skip so many of the words. As
for the publishers, perhaps it is wrong
to blame them so much; for they may
be very sorry that their minds not hav-
ing been cultivated, they are n't able to
'preciate our lovely poem. I should
think they would be ashamed, and I
dare say they are."
"What a sharp young person you







Dear Daugtker Dorothy.


are, Dorothy dear! her papa observed,
with a fond smile; "but I wonder that,
having discovered why it is that our
genius is n't recognized, you don't see
how useless it is to keep on sending
our productions to the publishers."
Well, I can't help hoping that there
may be just one cultivated one among
so many, and that we may happen to
hit upon him. Yes, papa; let us try
once more," urged the child.
Better spend the money in confec-
tionery that the postage would come
to, my dear."
"No, this is what I'll do," cried
Thorpe junior; I'll carry the poem
myself, papa, and save the stamps.
Yes, this very morning, for it already
has your name and address on the
last leaf. I will leave it with some un-
important-looking little man to give







26 Dear Daug/zler Dorothy.

to the chief one, who will never know
that it did n't come in the regular way;
and then you see we shall have earned
the money, -earned it," repeated Dor-
othy, impressively, and can afford a
real treat this evening. What shall we
have; and would you invite Professor
Grumpinson? It's more fun just by
ourselves; but he is such a lonesome
little old gentleman."
They walked along Tremont Row,
and down School Street, planning their
entertainment, as merry as grigs, hand-
some Robert Thorpe and his little
daughter Dorothy. A happy firm was
this of Thorpe and Company, sharing
poems and confectionery, cares and
pleasures, in a loving copartnership.
When they reached the office of
Jonathan Black & Brother, a tender
scene was enacted by them in the







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


vestibule. These pathetic partings
took place every morning, to the great
disgust of the office-boy, who consid-
ered them derogatory to the dignity
of a man of business.
"Good-by until afternoon, papa,"
said Dorothy, "when I shall come as
usual to walk home with you. Here
are your eye-glasses; and, oh! here are
your cough-drops. I had almost for-
gotten to give them to you. What-
ever would become of us if I should
grow to be as forgetful as you are!"
"The fates forbid!" devoutly ejacu-
lated her smiling papa.
And, darling," went on the anxious
little maid, "don't sit in the draughts!
I do wish I could come in and look
after you, for I don't think Mr. Jona-
than Black & Brother take any care
of you at all."








28 Dear Daughter Dorothy.

"They don't coddle me as much as
they might, for a fact," was Mr. Thorpe's
laughing rejoinder; "but I '1 try and
coddle myself for the sake of my sweet
Dorothy."
"Then good-by, and good luck to
you !" cried the gay little damsel, reach-
ing up for a final kiss; and then the
heavy door of Jonathan Black & Brother
swung heavily between them.













CHAPTER III.


ON her way home Dorothy stopped
at the windows of the confec-
tioners', and examined with contempla-
tive eye the wares on exhibition. She
did not intend, however, to make her
purchases in any of these fancy shops.
"It's just as Mrs. Kipp says!" she
declared to herself. It is a good plan
to look in these high-priced places, and
then when you have found out the
styles buy what you want in the cheap
ones.
In fact, Dorothy always patronized a
certain little shop which a funny old
maid had opened on the corner of
Sunshine Street. Most of her wares







30 Dear Daughter Dorothy.
were of her own manufacture; among
which pop-corn balls and good old-
fashioned molasses candy played a
very conspicuous part. There was also
a certain sticky substance made into
squares that were especially toothsome,
and which the children called "lolly-
gobs,"-a term which so insulted Mar-
thy Ann, as the little old maid was
called, that at last she absolutely re-
fused to sell them under this disrespect-
ful name. Therefore, when this dainty
was desired, the children were obliged
to ask sedately for so many cents' worth
of taffy. It is painful to add that im-
mediately upon leaving the shop many
of these bad girls and boys were in
the habit of derisively screaming, Lol-
lygobs! lollygobs!" at the top of their
shrill little voices, outside her win-
dow, to poor Marthy Ann's intense







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


chagrin. Dorothy never did this, be-
cause there was always a tender place
in her heart for the unfortunate; and
Marthy Ann's troubled air had not
escaped those soft, observant gray eyes
that looked out so seriously from the
small face of Dorothy Thorpe. So
on looking up at the ringing of the
little bell on the door that always
announced a customer, and beholding
Dorothy, the little confectioner's face
broke into a pleased smile.
Good-morning, Miss Marthy Ann,"
said the child, with a friendly nod.
"Have you any fresh 'lol'-dear me!
of course I mean taffy-this morning?"
"Now, my dear, don't make use of
that dreadful name! I consider it an
insult!"
I don't know why I did, unless it
was because I was so particular not








32 Dear Daughter Dorothy.

to," apologized Dorothy. "But really,
Miss Marthy Ann, I would n't mind it
so much if I were you; for whatever
name you call them by, they are per-
fectly delicious, and no one but you
can make them."
"Well, to be sure, a taffy-square by
any other name would taste as sweet,"
said the other, quite mollified by the
compliment. "How many do you
want, my dear?"
Dorothy, having made her purchases,
was leaving the shop, when her eye
fell upon some cranberry tarts., If
I had not spent all my money, I
would get some of those, for I heard
Professor Grumpinson say he liked
them," she said to herself; "but now
I really can't afford it." She was half
inclined to substitute the novel for the
poem she was to take to the pub-







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


lisher; for it was ever so much larger
and heavier than the poem, and of
course the postage would be more,
and thus she would feel justified in
buying the tarts. But this plan was
finally relinquished as not being "quite
fair."
Upon reaching home Dorothy took
out the purse and counted the money
that was left from last month's salary.
There was but a small sum, and she
stopped to consider how the remainder
had been spent. From her bureau
drawer she took out a little book which
lived there in the neighborhood of the
purse, and studied it attentively for a
long time. It was the book in which
she kept a strict account ,of the ex-
penses of Thorpe and Company.
"A great deal goes to Mrs. Kipp,"
she said at last; "but I am sure that's
3







34 Dear Daughter Dorothy.
no more than fair when we have such
a nice, pleasant room; and a great
deal goes to the laundress. Well, I
suppose it is pretty hard work to
wash, so that's fair too. Perhaps I
need not have bought that little vase
at the five-cent store; but I really
hadn't a thing to put flowers in; and
Professor Grumpinson and the others
give me so many that I felt, in justice
to myself, I ought to buy a vase to
hold them." This phrase, which Dor-
othy had borrowed from Mrs. Kipp,
was of great service to her, and all
her little extravagances were indulged
in on the strength of it. But there
were not so many of these, after all,
when one considers that the little girl
had free access to the purse where
all the money was kept, and that her
father always encouraged her purchases.







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


Fortunately "justice to herself" never
covered more than five or ten cents at
a time. Every now and then a small
sum was set down in this little book
as travelling expenses. Once Thorpe
senior, in looking over the book, in
his laughing way asked Dorothy what
this meant.
"I was not aware that we travelled
so much, Dorothy," he said.
No," the little girl answered, "we
don't; but the poem and the novel
and the play do, papa! I put down
all the postage they cost as travelling
expenses. It sounds nicer, I think."
This had happened only a few weeks
previous, just after the poem had
come home the last time. Papa had
greeted it with his never-failing jokes,
but Dorothy felt they covered more
than the usual disappointment; and







36 Dear Daughter Dorothy.


when he declared they would have no
more travelling expenses of that sort,
her heart was very heavy indeed.
It's so queer," she had said to her-
self, that all those horrid books of
Professor Grumpinson's about Greek
roots and things should be published,
and no one will take papa's lovely
poem!" She had looked forward for
such a long, long time to the delight-
ful things they would do and have
when her papa should have won fame
and money by his writings, that the
idea of now giving up all these hopes
and settling.down to "just our salary"
was most unbearable. For instance,
how could she abandon the plan of a
trip abroad, when the doctor had pre-
scribed that as the surest cure for
papa's cough, which was growing more
and more troublesome in the chill east-







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


wind of Boston? One of the pleas-
ures she had looked forward to was
a visit to Germany, where her father
and mother had lived before she was
born. It was here the original Herr von
Stein, a celebrated violinist, lived; and
many a cordial letter Thorpe and Com-
pany had received from him describing
the pleasures he could offer them if they
would only come to Berlin.
Those little items called travelling
expenses, you see, were full of signifi-
cance to the child, and entirely ban-
ished all thought of the cranberry tarts
which in justice to herself she felt that
she ought to buy for the Professor.
She put away the purse and the book,
and opening a shabby little trunk
looked in upon a number of neat pack-
ages. They were the poems, plays,
etc., on which Thorpe and Company







38 Dear Daughter Dorothy.

had counted for their future prosperity.
Dorothy, who still firmly believed in
their value, handled them reverently.
Taking out a battered manuscript
and smoothing its curling pages, she
exclaimed in a tone of pride such as
Mrs. Shakspeare might have used in
speaking of "Hamlet,"-
Ah, this is the play! It looks rather
tired after travelling so much. Let me
see, how many years ago did papa write
that ? It was when I was sick with the
mumps, because I remember teasing
him to read it to me, and begging
him to make Hildegarde, who had so
many misfortunes, poor thing! have the
mumps too. I was very silly; but it
was before Miss Crosby came to teach
me, and my mind had not been culti-
vated at all. Now here is the novel.
What a great, long book it would







Dear ]ayugh/er Jorollzy.


make! Don't I remember how tired I
was, though, before I had numbered all
the pages ? Papa must be very clever
to write all this; but 'he thinks it's
not so good as the others; so some-
time we may find a publisher able
to 'preciate it."
Finally Dorothy came upon the par-
ticular package she was in search of,
and carefully wrapping it up, laid it
aside until she could find time to, go
out again.
This did not happen at once, for she
had promised Mrs. Le Grand to wind
wool for her; and then she remembered
to have seen a hole in Professor Grum-
pinson's gloves which she had secretly
determined to mend for him. After she
had performed this little labor of love,
she went down into Auntie Kipp's par-
lor to see what she could do for her.







40 Dear Daughter Dorothy.
Mrs. Kipp was tying on her new
bonnet before the glass. She wore an
anxious face, and Dorothy thought
it must be that the new bonnet was
not satisfactory. It was made of black
silk, and sparkled with bugles; a big
red bow was perched on one side,
while spikes of stiff flowers decorated
the other. The whole effect was not
to Dorothy's fancy, but she felt that
her dear old friend was in need of
encouragement.
It 's a perfectly gorgeous bonnet,
Auntie Kipp," she said.
But Mrs. Kipp only shook her
head sadly. "We are none the better
for gorgeor, my dear; and with all the
trouble I have with that impudent Jane,
I don't take much interest in bunnits."
"Oh, with Jane /" cried Dorothy;
" is that the trouble ?"







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


"Yes, the important creature! She
thinks because she has lived ten years
with me, I could never get along with-
out her. She has had the imperti-
nence to tell me so, and I have just
discharged her. She is going Monday.
Dear, dear! I declare I would like to
go out of the boarding-house business
and live private for a while."
Well, Jane's mind has never been
cultivated, and people whose minds are
not cultivated are always exasperating,"
said Dorothy. But she will always
do 'most anything I ask of her; and
I am going to ask her to stay."
"You needn't tell her I can't get
along without her, for I can; and I
don't care if I can't!" were Mrs. Kipp's
parting words; but Dorothy knew they
were words of bravado, and went off
in search of the all-important damsel







42 Dear Daughter Dorothy.


It was a well-known fact among the
boarders that Jane was the main pillar
of Mrs. Kipp's house. Without this
able major-domo it would certainly have
tumbled in ruins upon her distracted
head. If the generous creature laid
up a penny, it was certainly due to
Jane, who kept a firm hand upon the
purse-strings. She managed not only
the affairs of the house but Mrs.
Kipp herself into the bargain; and if
the mistress rebelled she was always
sure to repent of it.
But there was one person, and a
very small one too, who could bring
Jane to terms; and this was Doro-
thy. In five minutes she was in a
condition to give any promise that the
child demanded; and having secured
it, Dorothy felt free to go on her self-
appointed errand. So with the manu-







Dear Daugtker Dorothy. 43

script under her arm she danced
down Sunshine Street, happy to think
that there need be no entry in the lit-
tle book for "travelling expenses on
this occasion, and that she and her
papa and dear Professor Grumpinson
were to have a most delectable treat
in consequence.












CHAPTER IV.


T HE office of Jonathan Black &
Brother was located in what Dor-
othy considered a very out-of-the-way
part of the city. To reach it, one was
obliged to pass through a great many
crowded streets,-not entertaining thor-
oughfares like Washington Street, where
there are a great many interesting win-
dows for a small girl to look into and
choose what she will buy when her
papa is a prosperous author, but streets
crowded with drays, and pavements
swarming with busy gentlemen, who are
too intent upon important matters to
stand aside for the convenience of little
girls.







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


As Dorothy wended her way to this
office every afternoon for the pleasure
of a walk home with her papa, she
often wondered why Jonathan Black &
Brother should not have established it
in the region of Sunshine Street. But
there were many puzzling things to her
about this firm. To begin with, why
should not Brother," as she always
called Mr. Isaac Black, have his first
name on the sign as well as Mr. Jona-
than ? She did not think it was really
quite fair; and yet, for all she espoused
his cause so warmly, she could not like
Mr. Isaac nearly so well as rosy, smiling
Mr. Jonathan. When "Brother" met her
outside the office door, as often hap-
pened, he always scowled and told her
to "run along home,"-"Just for all the
world as if I were a little street gam-
mon!" she explained, with great dignity,
to her papa.







46 Dear Daughter Dorothy.

As Dorothy went tripping on her way
this particular afternoon, reading for the
many hundredth time the sign of Jona-
than Black & Brother in conspicuous
letters over the door of a solemn granite
building, two men came briskly down
the steps. Just then a sudden gust of
wind seized the hat of one of them and
bore it swiftly out of reach. A messen-
ger-boy started in pursuit; but the wind
carried it mockingly on, as if determined
to cheat him, and finally dropped it just
at Dorothy's feet.
The little girl handed it to its owner,
who now came up.
Why, it's Brother,' to be sure," she
said to herself, and he never so much
as thanked me!"
He was a dark, nervous-looking little
man, with a deep wrinkle between his
eyes, which was to blame, Dorothy







Dear Dau-jhter Dorothzy.


thought, for the cross expression his
face always wore. She used to tell
herself, on meeting him, that he did
not mean to be disagreeable and she
liked him very much in spite of the
wrinkle.
This objectionable mark was espe-
cially noticeable as he took the hat from
Dorothy, and then turning to his com-
panion, growled out, Robert Thorpe's
child, is n't it ? Humph it's a pity
she has n't a better man for a father."
The words struck like a blow on
Dorothy's ear, and she flushed up to
her soft wavy bang with resentment.
She could find no kind excuse for him
in her heart, none at all; for in her eyes
he had committed the unpardonable sin
of disparaging her father.
She took a long breath and gazed
angrily after him. For the moment she








48 Dear Daughter Dorothy.

felt that she was glad yes, positively
glad that whether or not it was
"fair," his name was not on the sign
with Mr. Jonathan's.
"A better man than papa! cried the
little daughter, aghast at such heresy;
"as if there ever was or could be one!"
and she compared him in derision to Mr.
Isaac, not at all to the latter's advantage.
For was not Brother" the crossest-
looking of living men, while her father
with his lovely eyes and charming smile
was as beautiful as the morning? Who
could be so good, so handsome, or so
clever? As there was nobody to answer
the question, Dorothy answered it her-
self with a decided "No one "
It is a fact that Thorpe senior almost
justified even the exaggerated admiration
of little Dorothy. Perhaps he had been
too sobered by the loss of his young







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


wife, and too devoted to the happiness
of the little girl she had left to his care,
to make many intimate friends among
men; but he was loved and trusted by
every one with whom he came in con-
tact. He had a tender heart, with
never-failing sympathy for those in
trouble; and many a time because of
it, our month's salary came into Dor-
othy's hands in a shockingly reduced
condition.
It was fortunate for Dorothy that she
could thus dismiss Brother's" words
from her mind. She was too sunny-
tempered to brood over disagreeable
things, and just now there seemed many
pleasant ones to look forward to. In
gleeful impatience she waited on the
sidewalk for her father, eager to tell him
the events of the day and hurry him
home to the dissipations of the evening.







50 Dear Daughter Dorothy.

One by one the other men came down
the stone steps and turned homeward,
and now a half-hour had passed since
the last one had disappeared around the
corner.
It's those tiresome accounts that
keep him. How tired I am of being
a bookkeeper!" she said to herself,
with a sigh that was cut short by the
appearance of the office-boy.
When he beheld Dorothy he stopped
and remarked: Waitin' for your pa,
I suppose. Well, it's no kind of use
to wait any longer."
No use to wait'!" echoed Dorothy.
"Why not?"
Because he has already gone," was
the answer.
"You are joking," said Dorothy.
" He would n't go without me, I know."
But the office-boy solemnly shook







Dear Daughler Dorothy.


his head. "Guess your pa don't think
it's much of a joke. I'm telling you
the truth. He was taken off this morn-
ing by a policeman who didn't know,
most likely, about his having such a
pressing' engagement, or he would have
let him off."
Dear me, how very silly! exclaimed
Dorothy, with a cool dignity which
seemed to exasperate the office-boy
into saying, -
You'll soon find out whether I am
joking or not. I tell you, your pa, that
you are so proud of, has been taken up
on a charge of embezzlement."
"What's that ?" laughed little Doro-
thy. Is it French?"
"Yes, it's the French for stealing."
He was about to impart other informa-
tion of the same sort, no doubt; but the
child was already dancing away, with








52 Dear Daughter Dorothy.
her hands over her ears. It was evi-
dent, from her silvery laughter, that he
had failed to make the impression he
had expected, and with a contemptuous
grunt he started off in the opposite
direction.
Dorothy watched him out of sight,
then came back to her old post, where,
after waiting some moments longer, she
went up the steps; and finding the of-
fice closed for the night, set off at a
brisk pace for Sunshine Street, won-
dering more than a little why her fa-
ther, for the first time in his life, had
forgotten her.













CHAPTER V.


ABOUT an hour previous, Doro-
thy's father had climbed the three
flights of stairs, and entered the room
in which so many years had slipped
by. There was his desk littered with
papers, the head of Dorothy's best doll
confidently reposing on a closely writ-
ten page. Among his books were in-
terspersed gayly bound volumes that
contained the history of Dorothy's fa-
vorite heroines; his meerschaum pipe
lay beside a little worn worsted mitten;
everything spoke of the close compan-
ionship of father and child.
He sat down and waited until he
heard a well-known footfall upon the








54 Dear Daugkter Dorothy.
stairs, a child's voice speaking to some
one in the lower hall, and finally, the
groping of a little hand for the knob
on the door; and then Dorothy came
in. For a moment she did not dis-
cover him in the gathering gloom;
then, spying him as he sat by the fire,
his head bowed on his hand, she ran
up and threw her arms around his
neck, pressing her cheek against his
short crisp curls.
"You bad papa, not to wait for me! "
and then having swung herself around
to look in his face, she cried out in a
startled voice, Papa, are you crying ?"
Dorothy never forgot the sensation
of that moment; or the next, when he
took her in his arms, and she heard
him whisper, Oh, my Helena! I have
brought your child to disgrace."
Helena was the name of Dorothy's







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


mother, and it was the first time she
had ever heard her father speak it.
The child's face grew white, and her
heart beat to suffocation; but she tried
to control herself, and above all, not
to cry.
What is it, papa? she whispered.
It never occurred to the father to
withhold his trouble from this little
eight-year-old child. Indeed, it would
not have been possible to conceal it
from her loving and watchful eyes.
So, putting her down upon the floor,
and turning so that he could not look
upon the little face in its soft, tender
beauty, he tried to tell what misfortune
had befallen him.
"I have been arrested," he said, in
a strange voice, under a charge of em-
bezzlement; that is Oh, my God "
he groaned, "how can I tell her!"







56 Dear Daughter Dorothy.


"Don't try to, papa," said Dorothy,
moving closer to him, "for I know
what it means. Let us not be sad,
dear, for we never did it, you know."
"Are you quite sure, child, that you
know what embezzlement means ?"
Yes," replied Dorothy, nodding her
head sagely; it means taking their hor-
rid money. But we never did. How
could they think so, papa?"
His arm was around her again, and
he drew her to his knee,-this brave
and trustful little daughter, who always
stood ready to comfort him.
"They thought so because the money
was gone, dear, -had been drawn from
the bank, and my books are not
straight; that is, the figures have been
altered,--big sums changed into little
ones, and the difference in money is
gone."







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


Oh! and why should n't they have
accused any one else instead of us ?"
Because no one besides myself has
access to the books. Dorothy, in this
matter you must not say us. I will
not have my innocent child include her-
self in this vile business. Don't cry,
darling! Be my brave little maid!"
I cannot be brave, papa, if you keep
me away from you like that. I must
be accused if you are. We have al-
ways done everything together, and I
can't bear now to be left out."
She was so distressed that her papa
could only say, as he stroked her soft
curls: There, there, child! say what
you like. What do words matter, after
all ? "
Then he resumed his former atti-
tude, with his head in his hands; and
the cloud which had seemed to lift a







58 Dear Daughter Dorothy.


little settled down upon him heavier
than before. Dorothy sat upon the
floor at his feet, watching him; her
little chest heaving with sobs which
she would not give way to. She
pressed her fingers upon her hot eye-
balls to keep the tears back.
"Papa," she asked at last, in her
soft voice, what can we do? "
I do not know, child," was the sad
reply.
"But, papa," she cried impetuously,
"surely we should do something! We
will not let them think we took the
money. What can we do?"
He looked so stunned as he sat there,
staring vacantly into the fire, that the
child grew frightened. Placing a hand
on his knee to rouse him, she said,
" Let us ask Professor Grumpinson
what to do."







Dear Daueghter Dorothy.


"No, no, my Dorothy; he cannot
help us," he said, unconsciously falling
into the old form of speech which had
just shocked him so.
"And who, then? "
A lawyer, I suppose, if any one."
"A lawyer, oh yes!" cried the child,
brightly. Tommy Dow's father is a
lawyer, -a good one. He treated us
all at Marthy Ann's shop when she first
opened it, yes, every boy and girl on
Sunshine Street. He is a very good
lawyer, papa; let us go to him."
She picked up her coat and little cap
from the chair where she had flung them,
and put them on. Then she brought
her father's heavy coat and handed it to
him. By and by she persuaded him to
stand up and let her help him on with
it. When they were ready to go he let
her lead him out into the street.







60 Dear Daughter Dorothy.

The office of Tommy Dow's father
was but a short walk from Sunshine
Street; and Dorothy, who had often
walked there with Tommy, knew the
way perfectly.
The lawyer was just putting away
some papers preparatory to going home,
when Thorpe and Company opened the
door.
He begged the new-comers to be
seated, and sat down himself with his
face turned inquiringly to Mr. Thorpe.
The poor young man still wore the
bewildered expression that had fright-
ened Dorothy. He seemed hardly to
notice Mr. Dow's presence, and to his
" Now, if you please, sir, will you state
your business ?" made no answer at all.
"Ahem! said the small voice of the
junior partner; "we have been accused
of 'bezzling."















" We have been accused of 'bezzling." Pa'ge 6o.


yb~







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


"Well, upon my word," cried the
lawyer, glancing first at Dorothy and
then at her father, "how very extraor-
dinary! Sir," turning to Mr. Thorpe,
" what under the heavens did you bring
that child for ? "
He did n't bring me," said Dorothy,
sweetly; I brought him. I told him
you were a good lawyer."
She knows about as much as I do
of the whole affair," said Mr. Thorpe,
slowly recovering himself under the
sharp eyes of the lawyer. I have been
falsely accused of embezzling, by Jona-
than Black & Brother, whose book-
keeper I was, and have come to you
for advice."
It was quite dark when Dorothy and
her father went out again into the street.
There had been a long conversation
between the two men which the child







62 Dear Daughter Dorothy.

had been unable to understand; but she
knew that her father had at last aroused
from the dull stupor that distressed her
so, and meant to fight with every inch
of his being for their good name. With
the natural elasticity of childhood, she
laid her fears aside, sure that so good
a lawyer as Tommy Dow's father could
set matters straight.















CHAPTER VI.


" T is very nice, is it not," said Doro-
thy one day to her papa, "that
Tommy Dow's father does all the work
and we don't have anything to do about
our case? It's very lucky, because I
should n't really know what to do. That's
the 'vantage, I suppose, of having a good
lawyer. Will we have anything to do
at all, papa?"
Only to pay his fee, my dear," re-
plied her father, as cheerfully as might
be.
Fee? that's money, I suppose," said
Dorothy, concealing her dismay with a
smile.







64 Dear Daughter Dorothy.

When her father had lost his position
at Jonathan Black & Brother's, and
"our salary" had ceased to come in
regular instalments, the question of
money became very perplexing to
Thorpe and Company.
Mr. Thorpe had wished to leave Mrs.
Kipp's fourth-story front at once, and
remove into cheaper quarters; but that
dear good woman would not listen to
such a plan for a moment.
"Why, Mr. Thorpe," she had said,
" I am surprised, I am indeed, that you
should propose any such thing, know-
ing, as of course you do, that it would be
like drawing my heart out to take Doro-
thy away! Has n't she been as dear to
me as a child of my own ever since the
night you brought her here, a mite of a
baby, but chipper as you please in all
that driving storm? Besides, I hope







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


I'm not one as won't stand by folks
when they are in trouble; and as for the
rent it can just wait till it's convenient
for you to pay it."
That might not be for a long time
hence. To raise the necessary money,
therefore, he sold his watch and various
other articles of value. But his books
were still in their accustomed places on
the shelves, and it broke Dorothy's
heart to see him look sadly at them,
knowing it was in his mind that these
too must soon be sacrificed.
It isn't fair," she reflected, that all
his things should be sold and that I
should keep mine. If I knew how to
sell them, I would."
She had a great many little keepsakes
which had been given her from time to
time by various persons who had been
captivated by her gentle beauty and the
5







66 Dear Daugh/er Dorot y.

quaint dignity of her manner. These,
one day, she took to a jeweller, who
named so small a sum as the price he
would be willing to give for them, that
he himself smilingly advised her not to
sell them to him. It was just as she
was returning from this unsuccessful
expedition that she for the first time
noticed a red flag on the house beyond
Tommy Dow's, the owner of which had
recently died.
"That red flag means that there is
going to be an auction," said Tommy,
who was watching the people as they
mounted the steps. Let's go too."
Do you have to pay?" asked Dor-
othy, discreetly.
Being assured that no such embar-
rassing demand would be made, Doro-
thy followed her friend without further
ado; and here it was that the bright







Dear Daug/ter Dorothy.


idea came to her mind that her un-
salable wares might be disposed of by
auction. A consultation with Tommy
ensued, in which he assured her of his
ability to act as auctioneer; and then
she went merrily home to look over
her possessions.
Spreading them out upon the table,
she was really surprised to see how
much property she owned. There
were nine dolls, a doll's carriage, a
bed, and much furniture besides, which
upon being rubbed up looked nearly
as good as new. Some of the dolls
she was loath to part with, particularly
a splendid damsel in an aesthetic pea-
cock-green gown, which she admired
very much. However, she was deter-
mined to allow no favoritism among
her children, but dispose of the whole
lot at once. Then, besides the toys,







68 Dear Daugh/er Dorothy.


there were two dainty bangles, a dear
little turquoise pin, another with a
small pearl in the centre; a string of
amber beads cut into queer figures,
and a silver watch. There were fans
and fineries of all sorts, dear to Dor-
othy's heart as the gift of this one or
that among her many friends. Yes,
they were all gifts; and she felt that
it was a grave discourtesy to the do-
nors to sell them at all.
In the drawer where these were
mostly kept was a small box tied
carefully with a ribbon, which held
a valuable ring that had been her
mother's. But although she drew it
forth and examined it, Dorothy did
not add this to her collection. The
ring had been given her by her father,
with the request that she should keep
it carefully until she was old enough








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i


Ia-


"Perhaps if I should sell the ring she would think we have forgotten her."-Page 69.


Iyl~l- .


d



L/I~







Dear Daughker Dorotly.


to wear it. It must not be sold, there-
fore, without his permission; and this
she could not ask for without speak-
ing of the auction, which she wished
to keep a secret from him until the
proceeds were safely placed in the
portemonnaie. And besides this, in Dor-
othy's heart there was a tender feeling
for the young mother whom she had
never known that forbade her to part
with the ring she had once worn.
It seems as if it would hurt her
feelings if I were to sell it," the little
girl thought, as she twirled the spark-
ling jewel around her finger. Perhaps
she would even think that we have-
forgotten her; but I know if she were
here she would willingly give it up to
help dear papa."
The auction was to take place on
the following day, in the basement of








70 Dear Daughter Dorothy.


Tommy Dow's house. To be exact, it
was to take place in the laundry, from
the window of which a flaming flag,
made out of one of Mrs. Kipp's red
flannel petticoats, fluttered gayly in the
breeze. There was a placard pasted
on the basement door, too, which was
a close imitation of the one which
had advertised the previous auction
sale, and which began thus: "Auction
sale of the household goods of the late
Dorothy Thorpe." Then followed such
an elaborate catalogue of dolls and dolls'
toys, books, games, and the like, that
every child on Sunshine Street re-
solved to be present.
Before the hour arrived, however,
Dorothy's idea of politeness led her to
make a call upon each person whose
gift was to be disposed of. It would
be difficult to find a more oddly se-







Dear Daugzter Dorothy.


elected group of friends than these for
a damsel of eight; but however they
might seem to others, to Dorothy they
were one and all very lovable person-
ages. There was Mrs. Le Grand, for
instance, who had Mrs. Kipp's best
rooms, a worldly old lady in black
lace and bugles, that made herself as
disagreeable as possible to everybody.
How was it that Dorothy had found
the key to her heart? Then all agreed
that Professor Grumpinson was a crusty
old scholar, fond of no society but his
own; but Dorothy knew he could be
as agreeable as the best of them. She
could not see why little Miss Miller
should not be a general favorite. As
for her being ill-natured and envious,
the child would not believe a word of
it. To her she was like sunshine it-
self, and so it was with them all.







72 Dear Daughter Dorothy.


Lor', that Dorothy is a witch, and
that's what she is," Mrs. Kipp would
say, "and can persuade the blackest
wretch to show himself as gentle as a
lamb to please her; for she will have it
that everybody is as good as herself."
These were the little girl's friends,-
these, and several others apparently no
more to a child's fancy; and Dorothy
called on them all to explain why she
was going to part with their gifts.
The day of the auction proved ex-
ceptionally fine, which must account
for the large number of persons who
congregated in the Dows' laundry.
The tubs had been covered with
boards on which were spread the
articles for sale, the latter being care-
fully inspected by the children, not-
withstanding the watchful eye of the
auctioneer and his repeated command,







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


" Hands off, ladies and gentlemen;
please don't finger the goods!"
The owner of these was secreted
behind a clothes-horse covered with
shawls. That she was an interested
spectator of the scene was made evi-
dent by whispered comments, prob-
ably intended for Tommy's ear, but
distinctly audible to all. Such excla-
mations as, "Mrs. Le Grand, I de-
clare, in her best black silk!" or,
" Here comes the Professor on the
lookout for bargains!" put every one
in good humor.
The first object to be sold was one of
the dolls. Ahem Ladies and gentle-
men," began Tommy, "what am I
offered for this beautiful Paris doll?
A very accomplished lady, -both eyes
open and shut, and it says Mamma'
almost as well as a parrot."








74 Dear Daug lter Dorolthy.


It 's got a piece broken off its nose,"
here interrupted a child's voice; I
saw it."
"Beg your pardon, madam," said
Tommy, turning the doll round so as
to get a view of its features; it's
only er a little rctroussce."
Upon .this cool assertion the pres-
ence of the auctioneer was instantly
demanded behind the screen, where
the following dialogue in loud whis-
pers took place:-
"Tommy, she is right. I dropped
that doll downstairs ever so long ago.
I want you to tell the truth."
"Pooh an auctioneer never does
tat;, he has to sell things," protested
the boy. Now don't be a goose!
That fellow, the other day, said what
he chose, and no one popped up to
contradict."







Dear Daugh er Dorothy.


"Well, but poor Mr. White couldn't
pop up, on account of his being dead.
He had a splendid excuse, you see, and
I have n't any at all."
Then Tommy stoutly declared that
Dorothy would have to sell her own
wares, and it began to look as if there
would be no further proceedings that
day; but presently he reappeared, evi-
dently conquered, and the sale went on.
"This beautiful doll, then," he ad-
mitted, has met with an accident and
lost the tip of her nose. I don't think
it has injured her looks in the least;
and her eyes are in perfect condition,
and and stammered Tommy,
wildly seeking other perfections.
"And she has a very affectionate
heart," prompted the tearful voice of
its bereaved mamma.
A very affectionate heart!" repeated,








76 Dear Daughter Dorothy.

Tommy. Now, ladies and gentlemen,
what do you offer me?"
Ten cents," said a bold little girl
in a big hat.
Ten cents! She offers me ten
cents for this beautiful Paris doll!"
cried Tommy, in such an exact imita-
tion of the. sarcastic tone of his model
that Dorothy laughed outright.
"Well, fifteen then," said the same
voice that had offered ten, "and that's
enough, or perhaps twenty-five."
Twenty-five; make it fifty. Will
you give me fifty? Seventy-five! A
capital chance, Miss Marthy Ann, to
enlarge your stock! Seventy-five; will
you gimme seventy-five?"
"Seventy-five," said Marthy Ann.
"Seventy-five! gimme dollar? Am
I offered dollar?"
No, indeed, you are n't," cried the







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


girl with the big hat. I guess not,
for that cracked up thing."
Dollar! said the indignant Mar-
thy Ann, bidding in her wrath against
herself, with a scowl for Miss Big Hat,
and a smile for the eyes peering out
from between the shawls.
"Dollar! dollar for this lovely doll!
Make it dollar fifty! Gimme fifty-
forty thirty fifty," sputtered Tom-
my, excitedly; and catching Professor
Grumpinson's nod, closed with: This
beautiful Paris doll sold to Professor
Grumpinson at a dollar and a half!"
Dear me why, what will he do with
it ? inquired Dorothy, in an anxious
whisper.
Never you mind! Teach it Greek,
for all I care," replied the excited
auctioneer.
The next object sold was the favorite







78 Dear Daughler Dorothy.


esthetic doll in the green gown, which
was knocked down to the little shop-
keeper, whose affection for her favorite
customer led her to reach the extrava-
gant bid of two dollars.
And so the sale went on, until poor
Dorothy was absolutely childless; the
last dolly being borne away by one of
her playfellows for the paltry sum of
twenty-five cents. This doll was always
called by Thorpe senior "a masterly
fragment," having lost all its features,
a leg, and both arms. Perhaps it had
brought all it was worth; but it is a
sad fate, at eight years, to own not a
chick or a child; and Dorothy could
not help calling the little girl into
her sanctum, where she bestowed a
tragic maternal kiss upon her depart-
ing darling.
After the dolls, the other toys were







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


sold; and then came the keepsakes.
Dorothy clapped her hands over her
ears when she heard the bids for her
pretty turquoise pin; but as they rose
higher and higher, her feelings merged
into one of extreme astonishment; and
when it was finally kocked down, for
twenty-five dollars, to Mrs. Le Grand,
who had originally given it to her, she
exclaimed, with unconscious rudeness,
"That's more than she gave for it
in the beginning, I do believe."
There was one thing about the sale
that seemed a very curious coincidence
to Dorothy, which was that each arti-
cle should go back into the possession
of the giver. The Professor carried
off the bangles he had presented to
her with so many pretty speeches on
her last birthday. And Mrs. Le Grand
bought the watch as well as the pin,







8o Dear lDaug/i/er Dorothy.


both having been her gifts to the little
girl. Even the pretty French lady,
who had fallen in lofe with Dorothy
from the windows of the opposite house,
had come to the auction with the others,
and had outbid them all when the am-
ber beads with which she had once
decked her little favorite were put up
for sale, saying, in her funny, broken
English, Eets a thousand pitie ze leetle
sing should part wiz zese, zey become
her zo mooch."
At last everything was sold, and the
buyers, laughing and chattering, went
their way. Then it was Dorothy came
out from her hiding-place and gazed in
silence around the room. All her pret-
ty things had gone; but there was a
bright cheerfulness in her eyes as she
counted over the money that had been
left in their stead. Oh, how it would







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


stuff out the lank sides of the old
portemonnaie, and make her papa's
heart rejoice!
Tommy, congratulating her on her
good luck, gallantly escorted her to
her own doorstep, and sped home to
describe the sale to his mother, who
had been unable to be present.
And the jolliest part of it is," cried
the boy, "that the people have agreed
among themselves to return all these
things to her on her next birthday. Not
the children, of course; but they have
nothing but dolls and such rubbish, and
so Dorothy will have the money and
her things too. That's what it is to
be popular !"













CHAPTER VII.


T happened very curiously that just
as Dorothy had slipped the pro-
ceeds of her sale into the portmonnaie
and shut it up in the drawer, her papa
came in; and his first words after kiss-
ing his little girl were, Dorothy, my
darling, how much money have we in
the purse ?"
Dorothy was obliged to keep her face
well out of view as she replied, Here
it is, papa! You count it."
He sank down into a chair and opened
the purse, saying, It won't take me
long I suspect. Let me see, here are
five, ten, fifteen. Is that a twenty ?
Another ten! Why, how is this, child?







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


Here is a good deal of money; and the
last time I asked you about it we had
but ten dollars left."
It has been put in since," said Doro-
thy, demurely. Hold up your head a
little higher, dear I want to fix your
necktie; it's crooked."
Put in since? Why, when? I don't
remember," cried poor papa, with his
head tipped at such an angle that he
could not see the mirthful gray eyes,
nor catch the smile lurking around
Dorothy's lips, which were pursed up in
a would-be primness while she said, -
You are so absent-minded, almost as
bad as the Professor! Just think, this
morning he went out with two hats on,-
his own and Mr. Waterman's, which had
been put on top of it."
But about the money? I am not so
absent-minded that you can play tricks







84 Dear Dazghter Dorothy.

like this on me. How did we come
by it? "
The trouble with you, papa, is, you
are either too absent-minded or not
absent-minded enough," said Dorothy,
laughing; but she proceeded to explain
how they came to be so rich.
Oh, my child," he cried in a pained
voice when she had told her story, "it
was not necessary that you should sac-
rifice your poor little treasures!" But
though he took the little face between
his hands and searched it carefully,
he could find no shadow dimming its
radiance.
Don't you think it's nice that we
can pay Mrs. Kipp?" she said, in her
sunny fashion. I thought that would
give you pleasure."
Truly it does. She cannot afford
to wait for her money, and now we can







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


pay her up to the end of this week and
yet have quite a sum left."
They counted the bills over together;
Mr. Thorpe too touched by the child's
love and courage to spoil her pleasure
by useless regret. He gave her the joy
of knowing that her generosity had
really brought him relief.
Yes, Mrs. Kipp will be right glad of
this," said Dorothy thoughtfully, touch-
ing the pile of money on the table in
front of her. That gentleman with
the big beard and the diamond ring
went away without paying his board,
but she would never let us know if she
needed it ever so much, dear good
Auntie Kipp! Do you know, papa, she
is almost too good to me ?" the little girl
resumed after a pause. It makes me
feel bashful sometimes when she saves
all the best things at the table for me;








86 Dear Daughter Dorothy.

and I am sure the other boarders don't
like it."
Nonsense, child! they don't care."
Oh yes, papa, I heard all the little
old ladies talking together about it in
the parlor. There was Mrs. Smith and
Mrs. Green and little Miss Miller, and
Miss Miller said that Mrs. Kipp always
gives her the back of the chicken.
' When she serves the pie,' Mrs. Smith
said," went on Dorothy, "' she cuts off a
whole quarter of a one for that child,
and she sends me a little sliver no big-
ger than that!'" and Dorothy, who had
unconsciously mimicked the voice of
Mrs. Smith, now marked off the differ-
ent sizes of the pie on her hand, in such
good imitation of the impressive manner
of the indignant boarder that Mr. Thorpe
threw back his head and laughed.
"Well, it's too bad to make fun of poor







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


Mrs. Smith," resumed Dorothy, happy to
see her father in such good spirits, for
she is a very nice old lady, after all.
This morning when I carried her one
of the roses the Professor brought me,
she kissed me just as warmly as if I
hadn't had more than my share of the
pie. Mrs. Green and Miss Miller are
nice too, and I'm sorry they have the
back of the chicken. If I always had it,
I dare say I should make a fuss too."
You would never know it, my girl,"
cried papa, catching Dorothy up and
kissing her.
"But if I did I wouldn't like it,"
laughed the child. "I should think
sometimes it ought to go to you."
"Dorothy, you are a fraud. You
know you would n't care a farthing, and
you only say so to excuse those' greedy
old ladies."







88 Dear Daughler Dorothy.

Not greedy, -oh no, papa," Dorothy
protested eagerly; "you must n't think
they are greedy."
"Then why do they grumble, my
dear ?"
I think their feelings are hurt, that
must be the reason, papa,-and it's
awful to have your feelings hurt, you
know. I shall tell Auntie Kipp that
such big pieces of pie will make me
ill. Perhaps I had better go now, so
I shall be sure not to forget it."
That evening was the pleasantest
Thorpe and Company had passed since
their troubles began. It was such a
relief to be out of debt again that
Dorothy's spirits rose to their usual
level. Herr von Stein was brought
out, and made merry music once more
for his two friends. I say once more,
for he had been able of late to dis-























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'L~ZQ(I~ 'i









































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I~LIil 1


She sat at her father's feet while he played. Page r8.







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


course only in such sad tones that it
quite gave one the blues to listen to
him; but it was evident that to-night
he was in a very different mood.
Dorothy sat on a foot-stool at her
father's feet while he played; and it
really seemed to her that Herr von
Stein was trying to comfort them.
"Life now is rough and stormy," he
sang, "but presently it will flow on
again like a sunny stream beneath
kind skies. Only continue, little Dor-
othy, to love and trust, and all will
be well."
The money left in the purse did
not hold out, however, as long as Dor-
othy had anticipated, and very soon it
seemed to her the time came when she
was obliged to own, in answer to her
father's inquiry, that it was all gone.
It is marvellous what a cheerful







90 Dear Daughker Dorothy.

manner they immediately assumed, al-
though they carefully explored every
chink in the old portemonnaie.
Now, you see, there is plenty of
room for some more," Dorothy ob-
served, as she stretched it open till
its numerous compartments seemed like
so many gaping mouths.
To fill these the books were finally
sold; and worse even than this, oh
much worse, Herr von Stein was in
pawn. Dorothy wept many bitter
tears while thinking of their beauti-
ful friend, broken-hearted no doubt in
the dirty little shop of a pawnbroker;
and if she felt it so deeply, what then
were her father's feelings, when so many
tender associations clustered around the
instrument? This money too was fast
slipping away, and it daily became more
difficult for Thorpe and Company to








Dear Daughter Dorothy.


confront life with a brave heart and a
smiling face. In vain Dorothy looked
over her remaining trinkets for any-
thing of value to dispose of. There
was nothing but her mother's ring; and
when she brought it out one day and
offered it to her father, he covered his
eyes and groaned.
No, Dorothy, not yet."
All this was painful enough; but
Dorothy comforted herself with the
thought that the following month our
case" would be tried, and after that
she believed there would be no more
troubles of this sort. How glad she
would be to have the old comfortable
salary every month! Yes, comfortable,
even though she did have to pinch
here and there to make it cover their
needs. She had at first thought it
strange that her papa, after his dis-







92 Dear Daughter Dorothy.

charge from Jonathan Black & Brother's,
had not sought another position, and
had asked him in some surprise if he
did not mean to find one. The an-
swer was made in a tone that told
how painful it was to explain to her that
no one would employ a man who is
suspected of dishonesty.
Dorothy would have borne a great
deal of discomfort rather than ask the
question had she known it would give
her father pain, and she instantly re-
solved to ask him no more. This
resolution the child bravely kept, puz-
zling by herself over matters which she
was supposed to be too young to think
of at all. The truth is that Dorothy
did not wish to speak to others of this
trouble, and if broached, put the sub-
ject aside in a manner of her own at
once proud and gentle.







Dear Daughter Dorothy.


Even yet I have not recounted all
the little girl's worries. Among these
her father's cough took a conspicuous
place, for it was rapidly growing worse,
and no remedies brought relief. In
her anxiety Dorothy would have bought
all of these that she heard of; but this
would require money, and there was
none to spare. Mr. Thorpe never wore
gloomy looks in the presence of Dor-
othy; but she was sure he was not
as cheerful as he would have her be-
lieve, knowing, poor little soul! that it
is possible to smile and jest when there
is nothing in the mind but care and
trouble.
One evening while she sat looking
wistfully at him, he suddenly said,
"Dorothy, you wish to ask me some-
thing. What is it, darling?" And
when she shook her head he was not







94 Dear Dazugzter Dorothy.
convinced, for love gave him a power
to look right into her heart, and he
added, You wish to ask me some-
thing about the case."
So she hid her face on his shoulder
and whispered, Has Tommy Dow's
father found out who took the money ? "
Not yet," was the answer; "but we
must not be discouraged, dear."
There was still another question trem-
bling on her lips, but the child did not
ask it. She talked about other things,
avoiding any subject which would bear
upon this one, privately wondering how-
ever, in her own heart, what would hap-
pen to her father and herself if Tommy
Dow's father did not gain the case.
The following morning Dorothy and
Tommy went together for a walk.
They rambled over the Common and
then to the Public Garden, where they




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