So, when her own furniture arrived it was put in the room with the bay window and which did not overlook the Fayre house. The house that she could see from her newly chosen room, was so hemmed in by trees as to be almost invisible.
Dotty spent a pleasant afternoon, after her furniture was in place, arranging her little trinkets and pictures, and putting away things in her cupboards and bureau drawers.
But every little while some errand seemed to call her across the hall, and she couldn't help looking out to see if "that girl" had returned yet.
The next day was Sunday, and Mr. Rose was at home.
"Well, Chick-a-dotty, you'll have a nice playmate in that little girl next door," he said, as his daughter followed him round the house looking after various matters.
"'Deed I won't, Daddy; she's horrid!"
"Why, why! what sort of talk is this? Do you know her?"
"No, but I've seen her, and she isn't nice a bit."
"Oh, I guess she is. I came out in the train last night with a man I know, and he knows the Fayres and he says they're about the nicest people in Berwick."
"Pooh! I don't think so. She's a prim old thing, and doesn't know B from broomstick."
"There, there, Dotty Doodle, don't be hasty in your judgment. Give the little lady a chance."
Later, Dotty and her father walked round the outdoors part of their new domain.
"Isn't it pretty, Daddy!" exclaimed Dotty; "I'm so glad there are a lot of flower-beds and nice big shrubs, and lovely blue spruce trees and lots of things that look like a farm."
The Roses had always lived in the city, and to Dotty's eyes the two acres of ground seemed like a large estate. It was attractively laid out and in good cultivation, and Mr. Rose looked forward with pleasure to the restful life of a suburban town after his city habits.
"There's that girl now!" and Dotty suddenly spied her neighbour walking with her father around their lawn.
"So it is. I shall speak to him; it's only right, as we are next-door neighbours, and we men needn't be so formal as the ladies of the houses."
"I don't want to speak to her," and Dotty drew back. "Don't do it, Daddy, please don't!"
"Nonsense, child! of course I shall. Don't be so foolish."
"But I don't want to; she'll think I'm crazy to meet her, and I'm not! I don't want to, Father."
"What a silly! Well, if you don't want to see the girl now, run away. I'm certainly going to chat with Mr. Fayre, and get acquainted."
Now the other pair of neighbours had, not unnaturally, been talking about the newcomers.
"You see, Father," said Dolly as she took her usual Sunday morning stroll around the place with him, "that new girl isn't nice at all. When I smiled at her, she scowled and shook her head at me."
"Oh, Dolly, I imagine she's all right. Mr. Forrest told me about them. He knows them and he says they're charming people."
"Well, they may be, but I don't want to meet her. Don't walk over that way."
"Yes, I shall. Mr. Rose seems to be coming this way, and I shall do the neighbourly thing and have a chat with him."
"Why, Father, you don't know him."
"That doesn't matter between next-door neighbours, at least between the men of the houses. Come along, and scrape acquaintance with the little girl. I think she looks pretty."
Dolly started, then a sudden fit of shyness seized her, and she stood stock-still.
"I can't," she murmured; "oh, Father, please don't ask me to!"
"All right, dear; don't if you don't want to. Run back to the house. I'm going to speak to Mr. Rose."
And that's how it happened that as the two men neared each other, with greeting smiles, the two girls, started simultaneously, and ran like frightened rabbits away from each other, and to their respective homes.
Chapter II.
Dotty Rose and Dolly Fayre
A few days passed without communication between the two houses.
Mr. Fayre expressed a decided approval of his new neighbour, and advised his wife to call on Mrs. Rose. Mrs. Fayre said she would do so as soon as the proper time came.
"I'm not going," said Dolly. "I don't like that girl, and I never shall."
"Why, Dorinda," said her father, who only used her full name when he was serious, "I've never known you to act so before. I've thought you were a nice, sweet-tempered little girl, and here you are acting like a cantankerous catamaran!"
"What is the matter with you, Doll?" asked Trudy; "you are unreasonable about the little Rose girl."
"Let her alone," said Dolly's mother; "she'll get over it."
"I'll never get over it," declared Dolly; "I don't want to know a girl as big as I am, who plays with dolls."
"How do you know she plays with dolls?"
"Well, a dolls' carriage went in there the day they moved in."
"Perhaps it's one she used to have, and she has kept it, for old associations."
"Maybe. Anyhow, I don't like her. She made faces at me."
"Really?" and her mother smiled.
"Well, she scowled at me, and shook her head like a—like a—"
"Like a little girl shaking her head," said Mr. Fayre, to help her out.
But Dolly didn't smile. She was a queer nature, was Dolly. Usually sunny and happy-hearted, she liked almost everything and everybody, but if she did take a dislike, it became a prejudice, and very hard to remove.
Dolly was pretty, with the bluest of blue eyes and the pinkest of pink cheeks and the yellowest of yellow hair. She was inclined to be plump, and Trudy was always beseeching her not to eat so much candy and sweet desserts. But Dolly loved these things and had small concern about her increasing weight. She didn't care much for outdoor play, and would rather sit in the hammock and read a story-book than run after tennis balls.
Her mother called her a dreamer, and often came upon her, sitting in the twilight, her thoughts far away in a fairyland of her own imagination, enjoying wonderful adventures and thrilling scenes.
Dolly was in the grammar school and next year would be in the high school. She didn't like study, particularly, except history and literature, but she studied conscientiously and always knew her lessons.
This morning, she kissed her mother good-bye, and started off for school. She wore a blue and white gingham, and a fawn-coloured coat. Swinging her bag of books, she marched past the Rose house, and though she didn't look at her, she could see the Rose girl on the front steps.
"I wonder if she'll go to our school," thought Dolly; and for a moment the impulse seized her to stop and "scrape acquaintance." Then she remembered that shaking head, and fearing a rebuff, she walked on by.
"Do you know that new girl next door to you?" Celia Ferris asked her as she entered the school yard.
"No; do you?" and Dolly looked indifferent.
"No, I don't; but my mother knows a lady, who knows them and she says Dorothy,—that's her name,—is a wonder."
"A