Part 2 (1/2)

A FAVOURABLE DECISION

All through dinner time, Mrs. Fayre was somewhat silent, her eyes resting on Dolly with a wistful, uncertain expression. She wanted to give the child the pleasure she craved, but she had hard work to bring herself to the point of overcoming her own objections.

At last, however, when the meal was nearly over, she smiled at her little daughter, and said, ”All right, Dolly, you may go.”

”Oh, mother!” Dolly cried, overwhelmed with sudden delight. ”Really?

Oh, I am so glad! Are you sure you're willing?”

”I've persuaded myself to be willing, against my will,” returned Mrs.

Fayre, whimsically. ”I confess I just hate to have you go, but I can't bear to deprive you of the pleasure trip. And, as you say, it would also keep Dotty at home, and so, altogether, I think I shall have to give in.”

”Oh, you angel mother! You blessed lady! How good you are!” And Dolly flew around the table and gave her mother a hug that nearly suffocated her.

”There, there, Dollygirl,” said her father, ”go back and finish your pudding while we talk this over a bit. Are you sure, Edith, you are willing? I don't want you to feel miserable and anxious all the week Dolly is cut loose from your ap.r.o.n string.”

”No, Will; it's all right. If you and the Roses and Trudy, here, all agree it's best for Dolly to go, it seems foolish for me to object. And it may be for her good, after all.”

”That's what I say, mother,” put in Trudy. ”Doll isn't a child, exactly. She's fifteen and a half, and it will be a fine experience for her to see a little bit of the great world. And she couldn't do it under better conditions than at Mr. Forbes' brother's. The Forbes' are a fine family, and you know, perfectly well, there'll be nothing there that isn't just exactly right.”

”It isn't that, Trudy. But,--oh, I don't know; I daresay I'm a foolish mother bird, afraid of her littlest fledgling.”

”You're a lovely mother-bird!” cried Dolly, ”and not foolish a bit!

but, oh, do decide positively, for I can't wait another minute to tell Dot, if I'm going.”

”Very well,” said Mrs. Fayre, ”run along and tell Dotty, and Bernice, too.”

Dolly made a jump and two hops for the telephone, and soon the wires must have bent under the weight of joyous exclamations.

”Oh, Dolly, isn't it fine!”

”Oh, Dotty, it's splendid! I can hardly believe it!”

”Have you told Bernice?”

”Not yet. Had to tell you first. When do we go?”

”Next Tuesday, I think. Now, you tell Bernie, so she can write to her uncle that we accept.”

And then there was another jubilation over the telephone.

”Fine!” cried Bernice, as she heard the news. ”Lovely! I'd so much rather have you two girls than any others. I'll write Uncle Jeff to-night that I'll bring you. And I'll come over to-morrow, and we'll decide what clothes to take, and all that.”

Mrs. Fayre sighed, as Dolly reported this conversation.

”You girls can't do a bit of serious study all the rest of the time before you go,” she said. ”Now, Dolly, I'll have to ask you to do your lessons every day, before you plan or talk over the trip at all.”

”Yes, mother, I will,” and Dolly started at once for her schoolbooks.

It was hard work to put her mind on her studies, with the wonderful possibilities that lay ahead of her. But she was exceedingly conscientious, was Dolly Fayre, and she resolutely put the subject of the New York visit out of her mind, and did her algebra examples with diligence.