“That’s the man.”
“Is he sending you away?”
“Not directly; that is, not personally. But he and the board of directors have combined to decree this thing. They consider it an honour, Dolly. It is a better position, financially, and I have earned it by my integrity and exemplary behaviour!” Mr. Fayre smiled at his younger daughter, and was so honestly sorry for her that he didn’t know what to do.
“Well, Daddy, I can’t stand it,” and Dolly shook her head. “I’ll just die, that’s all. I couldn’t live anywhere except here. You couldn’t get me another Treasure House, or another Dotty Rose, or all our crowd at school, or anything that I have here.”
“But Buffalo may be full of Dotty Roses and Treasure Houses and school crowds, that are heaps nicer than the Berwick variety!” Mr. Fayre tried to speak gaily, but at these words Dolly burst into tears and Dotty followed suit.
The family left the table, and though they tried to have calm and general conversation the effort was vain, and very soon the Two D’s went off up-stairs.
They went to Dolly’s pretty bedroom, and here their woe broke out afresh.
“Oh,” wailed Dolly, “I can’t leave this room, this pretty, sweet, lovely room, and go to old Buffalo, to sleep in an attic with rats gnawing me!”
“Why would you do that?” and Dotty stopped midway of a sob to understand this dire prognostication.
“Well, it’s as bad as that, whatever it is.”