CHAPTER XXIII
AN UNWELCOME PROPOSITION
Though Dorothy enjoyed the fun of the motor-boat and the roof-garden, and was always happy whether working or playing, yet perhaps she liked best of all, to lie in her hammock of a summer afternoon, and read or day-dream as she looked across the lake and watched the shadows on the distant hills.
On these occasions she felt sure she could be a poet, if she only knew how to express properly the fancies that danced through her brain.
Sometimes she would provide herself with a pencil and paper, but though she might write a line or a phrase, she never could get any further. The attempt to put her thoughts into words always produced a crude and stilted result which she knew instinctively was not poetry.
"If I only could learn the wordy part of it," she said to herself, "I am sure I have the right thoughts to put into a poem."
As she lay thinking about all this, one warm afternoon, she suddenly heard a voice say: "Is this a hotel, or isn't it?"
Dorothy jumped, and sitting up in her hammock, saw a strange lady, who had apparently just walked into the Domain.
The newcomer was of the aggressive type. She was short and stout, with a determined-looking face and a rather unattractive personal appearance. She wore a short, thick brown walking-skirt, and a brown linen shirt-waist, and heavy common-sense shoes. A plain brown felt hat was tied securely to her head by means of a brown veil knotted under her chin. She carried in one hand a small suit-case, and in the other a stout walking-stick.