Stories from Everybodys Magazine, 1910 | Page 6

an
unprecedented and wholly unexpected thing. Without warning she
burst into song, even as Jennie was coyly preparing for an encore.
"O fair dove, O fond dove. O dove with the white, white breast,"
shrilled Dorothea to her startled audience. This was the same song with
which Lady Ursula invariably brought blinding, bitter tears to the eyes
of those assembled at picnics and hunt balls. It had an opposite effect
upon Dorothea's auditors. With apparently one accord they burst into
hilarious mirth, comment, and expostulation.
"My child!" "Where did you get that absurd song?" "Dorothea, never
try to sing again. I forbid it." This last from her father.
It was Amiel who commented admiringly on the fact that Dorothea
with practice might go through an entire song without once touching
upon the tune and time, and Jennie who giggled enjoyingly and said,
"Oh, Dorothea, you're awfully funny."
Dorothea sat out the rest of the evening in stony silence, which nobody
regarded. She refused to join in the various choruses-- no one noticed
the omission in the least. When at last she walked to the house with

Amiel between herself and Jennie, and haughtily shrugged her shoulder
away from his hand, he continued listening to Jennie's prattle without
giving the slightest attention to her aloofness.
Long after Jennie was asleep, Dorothea, wide-eyed, communed with
the Monster. This was not an imitation Lady Ursula jealousy at all.
That was an interesting game at which one played when Amiel
occasionally walked and talked with some stray damsel in the colony.
She had no real jealousy of the young ladyhood that at times intruded.
But this was different; here she was out- ranked in HER OWN CLASS.
In that lay the sting. She reflected dismally that this was only Tuesday
and that Jennie was to stay until the following Monday.
She was perfectly and miserably fair in recounting Jennie's attractions
as contrasted with her own. She, Dorothea, could, at demand, which
was seldom, reel off pages of poetry; Jennie could sing--to appreciative
audiences. Dorothea could swim and dive; Jennie had curly hair.
Plainly, Jennie had all the best of it. It remained only for Dorothea not
to forget the courtesy due a guest and, above all, oh, above everything,
not to show the slightest trace of the jealousy that consumed her. Lady
Ursula had several times been the life of the party when her heart was
breaking. Her proud smile had never faltered in the presence of her
rival. Well, neither would Dorothea's. She assumed it instantly in the
darkness by way of immediate practice, and fell asleep with the result
plastered upon her face.
In the morning the Monster, wearied perhaps by his session of the night
before, seemed to lie dormant. Dorothea woke jubilant as the morn and,
having roused her friend by the gentle method of half stifling her with a
pillow, rushed her through her dressing and led her forth.
The ocean welcomed them with rapture; it caught the sun for them and
threw it back in millions and millions of living, rainbowed diamonds.
The world was all gold and blue and tremulous with clean salt winds. It
seemed ridiculous that one could be unhappy on such a day. Dorothea
danced pagan-like at the wave edge while Jennie watched demurely
from the bulkhead.

However, it appeared that even on a day like this one could carry black
envy at one's heart. It was during the bathing hour that the Monster
again asserted himself--this time for no indefinite stay. As a rule, the
bathing hour was one in which Dorothea reveled. Arrayed in her faded
bathing suit, guiltless of skirt or sleeves, her prowess as an amphibious
creature had been highly commended by that one for whose praise she
would gladly have precipitated herself from the highest pier.
In vain to-day did she perform feats of daring and agility that would
have done credit to a flying fish. No one had eyes for her except an
agitated mother and grandmother, who finally ordered her summarily
out of the water and into the bath house.
Amiel had occupied himself in coaxing Jennie into the water and
giving her primary instructions in swimming. Jennie, in the daintiest
red and white suit that could be imagined, skirted and stockinged, with
her curls escaping from a coquettish red handkerchief, timorously
advancing and drawing back from the wave rush with little, appealing
cries, was as fascinating as a playful kitten.
Dorothea regarded her with the disgust of the seasoned veteran for the
raw recruit. This, however, her erstwhile friend might have been
pardoned for not suspecting, seeing that whenever she caught
Dorothea's eye she was immediately the recipient of a wide and
beaming smile that even one less vain might have accepted as a tribute
to her attractions.