"Rather it was your own guilty conscience that brought you back. Yes, I suppose it is 'Leah'--the witless waif my Dorothy found. And now I understand my poor neighbor's trouble. I am proud myself. Ah! yes I can understand! After the silence of a lifetime, how he shrank from publishing what he seems to have considered a disgrace to a gossiping world. But he was wrong. Such pride is always wrong; and he has spent a most unhappy time, searching with his own eyes everywhere but never asking for his lost Leah! but he was cruel in that, as cruel as misguided; and as for you, sir, the sooner you get upon your wicked feet and travel to Heartsease and tell its master where the poor thing may be found--the better for yourself. I think such an act as you committed is punishable by the strictest rigor of the law; but whether it is or not your own conscience will punish you forever. Now----"

Mrs. Calvert stopped speaking and rose. She had never been so stately nor so severe and Dorothy pitied the poor old man who cowered before her, even while she was herself fiercely indignant against him. By a clasp of Mrs. Betty's arm she stayed her leaving:

"Wait a moment, Aunt Betty, please. It's just as bad as you say, he's just as bad; but--he's terrible tired and old. He looks sick, almost, and I've been thinking while he talked: You let me stay at home, take Portia and the pony cart and carry Luna--Leah--and him back to Heartsease right away. May I, please?"

"But to miss the Fair? He should have the unpleasant task of confessing himself, and n.o.body else to shield him."

"Please, Aunt Betty, please! I found her. Oh! let me be the one to give her back!"

Mrs. Calvert looked keenly into her darling's eyes, and after a moment, answered:

"I might be willing; but should you desert your guests? And if you do, what shall I say to them for you?"

"Just this: that a messenger has come who knows where Luna belongs and that I'm going with him to take her home. That'll make it all right.

You might tell Dinah to keep Luna--Leah--I came pretty near her name, didn't I?--to keep her contented somewhere till I come for her and to put on her own old clothes. I have a feeling that that proud old miller would like it better that way."

There was a mist in Aunt Betty's eyes as she stooped and kissed the eager face of her unselfish child; but she went quietly away and did as she was asked. Left in the summer-house alone with Dorothy Eli Wroth relapsed into silence. He had had hard work to make himself unburden his guilt and having done so he felt exhausted; remarking once only:

"Thee may be sure that the worm hurts itself too when it turns. Thee must never turn but kiss the cheek which smites thee."

After which rather mixed advice he said no more; not even when all the other carriages having rolled out of the great gateway, Dorothy disappeared in search of Portia and the cart; nor did he cast more than one inquiring glance upon Leah, sitting on the front seat beside the girlish driver. As for the other, she paid him no more heed than she did to anything else. She might have been seeing him every day, for all surprise she evinced; and as for resentment against him she was too innocent to feel that.

The ride was not a long one, but it seemed such to Dorothy. At times her thoughts would stray after her departed friends and a wish that she were with them, enjoying the novelties of the County Fair, disturb her. But she had only to glance at the little creature beside her to forget regret and be glad.

Also, if her tongue was perforce silent, her brain was busy, and with something of her Aunt Betty's decision, she intended to have her say before that coming interview was finished.

All was very quiet at Heartsease when she reached it. Even the twins were abnormally serious, sitting on the wide, flat doorstep of the kitchen entrance, and looking so comical that Dolly laughed. For the Fifth Day meeting Dorcas had clothed them properly. Her ransacking of old closets had resulted in her finding a small lad's suit, after the fashion of a generation before. A tight little waist with large sleeves, which hung over the child's hands, and a full skirt completed the main part of his costume; while his nimble feet were imprisoned in stout "copper-toes," and a high-crowned, narrow-brimmed hat covered his already shorn head. Such was Benjamin, in the attire of his uncle at his own age.

As for Sapphira-Ruth,--a more bewitching small maiden could not be imagined. She wore her mother's own frock, when that mother was five.

Its cut was that of Dorcas's own, even to the small cap and kerchief, while a stiff little bonnet of gray lay on the step beside her. Ruth's toes also shone coppery from under her long skirt; and the restraint of such foot gear upon usually bare feet may have been the reason why the little ones sat sedately where they had been placed without offering to run and meet their old friend.

Eli Wroth started to get out of the cart, but Dorothy had a word to say about that.

"No, sir, please! You sit still with Leah and hold the horse. I'm going in first to speak to Mr. Sands, but I'll come back."

Tapping at the kitchen door, she stooped to kiss the twins, receiving no further response than to see Benjamin wipe her kiss away; Ruth, as a matter of course, immediately doing the same.

Nor was there any answer to her knock, and since the door was ajar she pushed it wide and entered. Dorcas sat there asleep; her work-worn hands folded on her lap, her tired body enjoying its Fifth Day rest.

Oliver was invisible but Dorothy softly crossed to a pa.s.sage she saw and down that, stepping quietly, she came upon him alone in his office. The door to that inner, secluded room--Leah's room, she understood at a glance--this door was open, and the miller sat as if staring straight into it. So gently Dolly moved that he did not hear her, and she had gone around him to stand before his face ere he looked up and said:

"Thee? thee?"

"Yes, I. Mr. Sands, I know the whole story, and I'm sorry for you. I'm more sorry though for the little old woman who belongs in that room.

It's pleasant enough but it has been her prison. It has deprived her of lots of fun. If I should bring her back to it, would you let her go out of it sometimes, into the world where she belongs? Would you let her come to visit me? Would you take her to meeting with you as is her birthright? Would you put your pride aside and--do right? If I would bring her back?"

For a moment he stared at her as if he did not understand; then all that gloom which had so changed him vanished from his face and he answered with that promise which to a Quaker is better than an oath:

"I would. I will! If thee can bring her!"

A moment later Leah's hand was in her brother's and Dorothy had left them alone, and thus the House Party neared its end, to become but a happy memory to its soon to be homeward speeding guests. The thoughts of the young hostess were even now turning wholly to the future, her brain teeming with marvelous plans. What these were and how fulfilled in "Dorothy in California," to those interested, the story will be told.

CHAPTER XVIII

CONCLUSION

"Friday! And to-morrow we part!" said Molly Breckenridge, with more of sadness on her sunny face than was often seen there. "It's been such a perfectly enchanting Week of Days, and this is the last one left! Oh!

dear! Oh! I do hate good-bys. Saying that and packing one's trunk are two just unbearable things and make one wish, almost, that the nice times had never begun."

"Yes, beginnings are grand; but endings--Hmm. I agree with you, Miss Molly," echoed a boyish voice so close to her elbow that the girl wheeled briskly about to see who spoke.

"Why, Melvin Cook! Are you down in the dumps, too? I didn't know boys had--had feelings, don't you know."

He ignored her mockery and answered gravely:

"They do feel a deal more than they get credit for. A boy daren't cry and be silly like a girl----"

"Thanks, awfully!"

"He just has to keep everything bottled up. That's why he acts rude sometimes. I fancy that's what's amiss with the two Smiths yonder.

They've been literally punching each other's heads because Danny happened to remark that Littlejohn would have to work the harder when he got home, to make up for this week's idleness. And----"

"Here comes the Master and he doesn't look at all like crying! Why he's holding his hands above his head and--yes, he's clapping them!

Call all the others with that new bugle of yours, and let's go meet him! Toot-te-toot-te-toot!"

Melvin obediently raised the handsome instrument which Dorothy had given him the night before, and which Mrs. Calvert had bought for him in the hill-city. It had not come from the County Fair but from the best establishment for such ware and Melvin was delighted with it.

There had been a "keepsake" for each and all. For Jane Potter her "unabridged"; for Alfaretta, who had never minded rain nor snow, a long desired umbrella; for Jim a Greek lexicon; for Mabel Bruce an exquisite fan; and after the tastes of all something they would always prize. In fact, Mrs. Calvert had early left the Fair and spent her time in shopping; and Seth knew, if the younger ones did not, that far more than the equivalent of the famous one hundred dollars had been expended to give these young folks pleasure.

"Oh! what is it, Master! What is it? Have you settled on the play?

Will you a.s.sign the characters and let us get to studying, so we can make a success of it to-night?" cried Helena, rather anxiously.

"I have settled on the play. Rather it has been settled for me. As for characters they will need no study, since each and all are to appear in this most marvelous drama in their own original selves."

"Why, Mr. Seth, what do you mean? You look so happy and yet as if something had made you feel bad, too;" said Dorothy, slipping her hand into his as he dropped it to his side.

"Oh! I tell you I am happy! So will many another be, 'up-mounting' on this auspicious day. Talk about partings--there are going to be meetings, meetings galore. In short, I won't mystify you any longer though I am half-mystified myself. Attention! Leah Sands will give a House Party this afternoon at Heartsease Farm and we and all who'll accept are bidden to attend at three o'clock sharp."

"Leah--that's Luna? How can she do a thing like that?"

"Well, it can be done in her name, I reckon. Just as this was Dorothy's and somebody else managed it; eh, la.s.sie? The Friends speak when the Spirit moves. At last, by the power of grief and remorse, by the power of Love, the Spirit of unselfishness and humility has moved upon the heart of Oliver Sands. One is never too old to learn; and, thank G.o.d, some are never too old to acknowledge their ignorance! He isn't, and to prove it he is doing this thing. His messengers are speeding everywhere. Caterers from Newburgh have had hurry-up orders to provide a bountiful feast and old Heartsease Farm is to be the scene of an 'Infair' that will beat Dorothy's to--smithereens! I mean, begging her ladyship's pardon, in point of size. Leah is to be the guest of honor, since she cannot preside; but be sure she'll not disgrace her proud brother since at Dorothy's Party she has learned how harmless are even strangers. Yes, I can safely say that Leah made her debut with us. Now, who'll accept? Don't all speak at once!"

But they did. So joyfully, so earnestly, that the Master clapped hands over ears and, laughing, hurried away, while Mrs. Calvert beamed upon them all, the dearest hostess who had ever lived--so one and all declared.

The scene at Heartsease? It is useless even to try to depict that.

Sufficient to say it was a marvelous Party; and he who marveled most was the giver of the Party himself. Because where he might easily have expected absences and "regrets" came hastening guests to shake him by the hand, to forgive hard dealings, to rejoice with him that she who had been lost, in every sense, had been found.