But now Dorothy was about to enter upon a delicate and what might prove to be a difficult adventure. She had to go to the manager’s office the next afternoon, but beyond that point, she dared not trust herself to think or plan. When night came, and all seemed to be asleep Dorothy, in her room in the big hotel, had a chance to look the situation squarely in the face.
“One thought I must keep before me,” she told herself. “I am bound to find Tavia and save her. To do this I will have to take great risks, and perhaps be very much misunderstood, but I must do it. Her risk is even greater than mine and if I appear to deceive people—even dear, good, thoughtful Nat,—I must do so to continue my search.”
Then the girl, with aching head, planned how she could get away to see the theatrical manager the next day. She would not pretend to have any plans made for going out, and then, just before the hour Miss Riceman had told her the manager’s office would be open, she would announce that she wanted to get some souvenirs of Buffalo to take home with her. This, she decided, would give her an opportunity to hurry away alone.
But, oh, how she dreaded to face that manager! If it were only a woman who was in charge of the office, but a man! And she had heard vague stories of how dreadfully rude some managers were to persons who bothered them. There were so many questions she would have to ask—enough to put any manager into bad humor she thought—and perhaps there would be young girls there like Tavia looking for engagements—they would overhear what she had to say. Oh, it was dreadful, the more she thought of it!
Dorothy buried her head deeper into the pillow and tried to sleep. She felt that she must get some rest or she would not be able to carry on the work that demanded so much of her strength, her brains and her courage. She needed them all now to follow up the clue of Tavia’s whereabouts given by Miss Riceman.
It was almost morning when Dorothy fell into an unquiet sleep, and it was glaring daylight, with the sun streaming into her window, when she awoke. Rose-Mary was moving about the room on tip-toe after some things, feeling the necessity of allowing Dorothy all possible rest, as she had appeared so exhausted after her experience of the previous day.
“I’m so sorry you are going away to-morrow,” spoke Rose-Mary, seeing that Dorothy was awake. “This is the last day we will have together for some time. I have enjoyed your visit so much.”
“I’m afraid I’ve been rather stupid,” apologized Dorothy, feeling as if she must make some excuse for her seeming indifference to Rose-Mary’s entertainment. “But, Cologne dear, I can never tell you how grateful I am for this chance to see Buffalo. It seems as if I had really entered a new world since I came into this big city.”
“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed everything, dear,” said Rose-Mary. “But you must rest to-day and not go sight-seeing any more. You will need to be fresh for your auto trip to-morrow morning.”
“Oh, yes, I’ll rest to-day,” replied Dorothy, as she slipped into her dressing-gown and approached the dresser. There she found a dainty array of remembrances Cologne had selected for her to take home. This was a surprise and it told Dorothy more plainly than words could, that Rose-Mary loved her, and so loved to make her happy.