“Oh, I’ve killed her, I’ve killed her! If I hadn’t been so careless and left the purses, and if I hadn’t chased that ‘shiny man’ and made all this trouble, she wouldn’t have—I can’t bear it. What shall I do!” she wailed to Molly, as they followed hand in hand, where Miss Greatorex was carried.
“You can stop saying ‘if’ and worrying so. You didn’t do anything on purpose and she’s to blame herself. If she hadn’t gone off mad from the hotel and left Auntie and me, maybe she wouldn’t have run too hard and hurt herself. If—if—if! It isn’t a very happy beginning of a vacation is it? Even though we have got Papa and Auntie Lu and everything. And I don’t know yet what you did after you ran away from the boat. We can’t do a thing here to help. Let’s go to Papa, there and you tell us the whole story. He took a lot of trouble to find you and paid a lot of money to men to seek you, and he looks awful tired and—and disgusted. I guess he wishes he’d just brought Auntie and me and not bothered himself with you and Miss Greatorex. And that’s my fault, too. If I hadn’t asked him to do it he would never have thought of it. Seems if things never do go just as you plan them, do they?”
Under other circumstances Dorothy might have replied to her friend’s unflattering frankness by some reproaches of her own, but not now. She realized the truth but was too humble to resent it. So she merely glanced once more through the door of the little stateroom at Miss Greatorex stretched upon the bed and Mrs. Hungerford with the stewardess attending her, and followed Molly.
The Judge met them with an encouraging smile and the command:
“Shorten up your countenances, little maids! This is a holiday, did you know? Folks don’t go holiday-ing with faces as long as your arm. Here, cuddle down beside me and watch the sights. Tell me too, Miss Dorothy, all that befell you after you disappeared. I’m as curious as Molly is, and she’s ‘just suffering’ to know. Don’t worry about Miss Greatorex, either. She’s simply over-exerted herself and allowed herself to get too anxious about this one small girl. The idea! What’s one small girl more or less, when the world’s chock full of them?”
But the affectionate squeeze he gave to the “girl’s” shoulders as she sat down beside him, while Molly sat herself upon his knee, told her that he had already forgiven any annoyance she had caused him. He was too warm hearted to hold a grudge against anybody; least of all against as penitent a child as Dorothy.
She related her adventures and the Judge laughed heartily over her mimicry of Larry McCarthy, the “new policeman.” Nor did he make any criticisms when the story was ended. She had been sufficiently punished, he considered, for any lapses from prudence and the lessons her experience had taught would be far more valuable than any word of his. So he merely called their attention to the scenery before them.
“This beautiful, green spot that we are passing is Blackwell’s Island, where the city’s criminals and other unfortunates are sent. Doesn’t seem as if wicked people could be hidden behind those walls, does it? Well keep out of mischief and don’t go there!
“Soon we’ll be going up Long Island Sound, and you’ll get a glimpse of some handsome homes. Hello! What’s this? My little bugler, as I live! Good day to you, Melvin; and what is this present ‘toot’ for, if you please?”
A fair-faced boy came rather shyly forward and accepted the hearty hand grasp which the Judge extended, but he seemed to shrink from the keen observation of the two girls; though a flush of pleasure dyed his smooth cheeks, which were as pink-and-white as blond Molly’s own.