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The Project Gutenberg eBook of Dorothy
            Dale's Promise
   This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United
   States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with
   almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away
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Language: English
                 BY
          MARGARET PENROSE
AUTHOR OF “DOROTHY DALE: A GIRL OF TO-DAY,” “DOROTHY
       DALE AT GLENWOOD SCHOOL,” “THE MOTOR
                 GIRLS SERIES,” ETC.
ILLUSTRATED
             NEW YORK
      CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
BOOKS BY MARGARET PENROSE
                Copyright, 1914, BY
        CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
  The train started a second after the two almost breathless girls
entered the half-empty chair car. They came in with a rush, and
barely found their seats and got settled in them before the easily
rolling train had pulled clear of the station and the yards.
  “But we did have some fun, Doro. And how we got the best of
that hateful Akerson man! I just hate that fellow. I could beat him!”
    “Well, Aunt Winnie is well rid of that Akerson,” said Dorothy, with a
little sigh of satisfaction.
  “And your cousins, Ned and Nat, have you to thank for the
salvation of their income,” returned Tavia.
  “Us, you mean,” laughed Dorothy. “You had more to do with the
showing up of that real estate agent than I had, Tavia.”
  “Nonsense—— Oh, here’s the station where the girls may join us.
Do let me open that window, Doro! I don’t care if it is cold outside. I
want to see if they are on the platform.”
  Tavia was already struggling with the window. But windows in cars
are made to stick, it would seem. Tavia cast a pleading glance from
her big eyes at the trim young brakeman just then coming through
the car.
  The young man opened the window. The exertion seemed to have
been considerable, for he grew red to the very tips of his ears while
he was raising the sash!
  “Didn’t I say that prettily? Just like a New York society girl would
say it—the one who took us to tea that time in the tea room that
used to be a millionaire’s stable; do you remember?”
  “You are just dreadful, Tavia!” groaned Dorothy Dale. “Will you
never learn to behave?”
  “There they are!” shrieked Tavia, with her head out of the window.
“There are all the ‘bad pennies’—they always turn up again, you
know.”
  The train was slowing down and the long platform of the junction
came into view.
  And, by good fortune, they had! Within the next few moments
nearly a dozen of the pupils of Glenwood School had joined the
chums—and all of these newcomers, as well as Dorothy and Tavia,
belonged to the class that would graduate from the famous old
school the coming June.
  “Tell us all about New York—do!” cried Ned Ebony, otherwise Edna
Black.
  “And Miss Mingle!” urged Rose-Mary, whom the other girls called
“Cologne” most of the time. “Is she coming back to Glenwood
School to teach music?”
  “Poor little Mingle has had a hard time,” Dorothy said. “But she is
coming back to us—and we must treat her nicely, girls.”
  The girls all laughed at that, for it had been Tavia’s last prank at
Glenwood to shower little Miss Mingle with the feathers from her
own special tick.
   “But about New York,” urged one of the other girls who had never
been to the metropolis. “We’re just dying to know something about
it, Doro.”
   “See here,” said Dorothy, laughing, and diving into her handbag.
“Here’s something that I cut out of the paper. It is how New York
struck the wondering eye of an Arab who visited it recently. He sent
this letter to his brother at home:
    “‘People in America travel like rats under the ground, and like
  squirrels in the air, and the buildings are so high that people
  have to be put in square boxes and pulled to the top by heavy
  ropes. In the day the sun furnishes the light as in Morocco. At
  night the light is as strong as in the day, but people here do not
  seem to have much use for sleep, as the streets are just as
  crowded at night as in the day.’
  “My turn! I’ll relieve you,” interposed Tavia. “There are lots of nice
boys—real dressy boys—and it’s fun to go to the tea-rooms, for you
see everybody—and they dance! And we’ve learned to dance the
very newest dances——”
  At that moment brakes were put on the train and the girls were
suddenly tumbled together in quite a heap. There was something
ahead to cause this sudden stoppage, and Tavia struggled with her
window again. It went up easier this time. Perhaps that was because
there was no good looking young man—in or out of uniform—near
at hand.
  “Right,” agreed Tavia; “and Belding is the next station beyond the
creek.”
   “Let’s go out and ask the railroad men if we can’t get over the
river and get a train on to Glenwood at once,” suggested Dorothy
Dale.
  But it was the conductor in charge of the train they found when
the hilarious party of school girls got out with their hand baggage.
  “How are you going to get across the river, young ladies?” he
wanted to know. “The highway bridge is a mile through the woods.”
  “But we know all about this river,” spoke up Tavia. “There are
stepping stones across it right below this old railroad bridge. We’ve
been across them before—haven’t we, Doro?”
   “Well, you can try it,” said the conductor. “That bridge is going to
be unstable, even if they get the fire out. A train may not cross from
either side before to-morrow.”
“Oh!” cried Ned Ebony, “we could never wait that long!”
  “Come on!” commanded Tavia, leading the way into a path beside
the railroad tracks. “Let’s at least see if the stones are uncovered.”
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