Betty Gordon at Boarding School - Alice Emerson
"I didn't," muttered Ada, but she refused to meet her teacher's eyes.
"I don't want a race on a foul," argued Betty pluckily, for her skinned
elbow was smarting madly. "Let's begin over."
She had her way, too, and this time won without interference, though Ada
was so furious that Bobby was seriously concerned.
"She looks mad enough to put something in your soup," she told Betty, as
they went in to dress and have Betty's elbow attended to. "What is it,
Caroline?"
"Two young gentlemen to see you, Miss Bobby and Miss Betty," announced
the maid importantly. "They is waiting in the parlor. Mrs. Eustice says
you all should go right up."
In the parlor the girls found two slim, uniformed young figures who rose
like well-set-up ramrods at their entrance.
"Bob!" ejaculated Betty, her voice betraying her pleasure. "Bob, you look
splendid!"
Tommy Tucker glanced hopefully at Bobby.
"Don't I look splendid, too?" he asked.
"You're overshadowed by Bob," said Bobby mischievously. "However, when
not compared with him, I dare say you look rather well."
CHAPTER XV
NORMA MAKES REPAIRS
This had to content the Tucker twin who took Bobby's chaffing
good-humoredly.
Bob Henderson did indeed look very well. The uniform was most becoming,
and though he was studying hard to make up for lack of preparation, his
clear eyes and skin and firm muscles told of a wise schedule that
included plenty of outdoor exercise.
"We want you girls to come over to a practice game," announced Tommy
Tucker presently. "We've got rather jolly rooms, and we thought if you
brought Miss Thingumbob along we could have you in for tea and show you
the sights. Do you think the powers that be will say yes?"
"Well, I don't know," answered Betty thoughtfully. "I didn't know you
Salsette boys had much to do with girls. Of course the whole school goes
to the big football games, but asking us to see a practice game is
something new. Of course it will be difficult to get an afternoon when
every one is free--"
"Every one!" exploded Bob. "Who said anything about every one? We don't
want the whole school--just you and Bobby and Louise and Frances and
Libbie and the Guerin girls."
"Sure, the same bunch that came up on the train," said Tommy Tucker.
"Lead me to Mrs. Eustice and I'll ask her."
"Mrs. Eustice is not in this afternoon," announced an extremely cold and
disapproving voice. "Have you permission, young ladies, to see these
er--callers?"
It was the elderly teacher whom Tommy had tormented on the train!
For once in his life that young man was thoroughly abashed. He threw
Betty an appealing look that asked her to save him.
"Miss Prettyman, may I present my friends?" said the girl with the
formality that is subtly flattering to an older woman. "This is Bob
Henderson, who came from the West with me and who is really like my
brother, since my uncle is his guardian. And this is Tommy Tucker, who
lives in Washington."
"How do you do, Robert and Thomas?" said Miss Prettyman austerely. "Did
Mrs. Eustice know you had callers?" she persisted, turning to the girls.
"She took the last bus to Edentown."
"Yes, she knew. It is all right. Caroline said so," babbled Betty, in
frantic terror lest the boys make the mistake of telling Miss Prettyman
about the proposed visit.
"What was it you wanted to ask Mrs. Eustice, young man?" the teacher
demanded next. "I am her secretary and try to save her work whenever
possible. Perhaps I can answer your question."
Behind Miss Prettyman's narrow back Betty signaled wildly.
"Don't tell--hush!" she wig-wagged, laying her finger against her lips.
Tommy stared at her idiotically, his mouth gaping.
"Thank you, but only Mrs. Eustice could really give us an answer," said
Bob, coming to the rescue of his stricken chum. "Betty, will you deliver
our message and perhaps you can telephone the answer?"
"No Shadyside girl is allowed to telephone Salsette Academy," announced
Miss Prettyman, with grim satisfaction.
Betty had not known of this rule, but she realized it was undoubtedly in
existence.
"We'll let you know some way," she promised.
Still pursued by Miss Prettyman's icy glare, the wretched boys backed out
of the room and the unfortunate Tommy walked into a handsome china
jardiniere with disastrous results. There was a sickening crash, a
ladylike scream from Miss Prettyman, and Betty heard Bob's voice in a
tone of suppressed fury: "You've done it now, you idiot!"
Bobby giggled, of course, but Miss Prettyman, who had followed the boys
into the hall ("I think she thought we'd steal something on the way out,"
Bob confided later to Betty) maintained her poise.
"I'm--I'm awfully sorry," faltered the culprit. "I hope it wasn't very
expensive. I'll pay Mrs. Eustice, of course, or buy her another one--"
"That jardiniere happened to be imported from Nippon," remarked Miss
Prettyman coldly. "I doubt if it can ever be replaced. It has stood in
that exact spot for seven years. But then, naturally, our callers are
accustomed to leaving a room gracefully. I'm sure I--"
The agonized Tommy tried to get in a word, failed, and took a step toward
the door. His foot caught in the rug, and for one dreadful moment he
thought he was doomed to create another scene. As he recovered his
balance, Ada Nansen came down the stairs.
"What was that noise we heard a few minutes ago?" she asked sweetly,
looking at the boys.
Betty and Bobby, laughing in the doorway of the reception room, the
unyielding Miss Prettyman, and the cool and curious Ada swam before
Tommy's eyes. Bob retained his presence of mind and, opening the door
with one hand and pushing Tommy before him with the other, managed to
effect their exit.
"Gosh, Bob, wasn't that awful!" sighed poor Tommy, when they were finally
clear of the school portal. "Don't I always have bad luck? How could I
know we were going to walk smack into that dame? She remembered us, too."
"She remembered you," said Bob significantly. "And you were within one of
asking her to let the girls come over to the game, too! Didn't you know,
you poor fish, that she would jump for joy if she could have a chance to
turn you down?"
"Well, anyway," replied Tommy more contentedly, "Betty will let us know.
She can find a way."
Betty lost no time in putting the invitation before Mrs. Eunice when she
returned from her town expedition. The principal knew all about Bob
through Mr. Gordon's letters and those from Mrs. Littell, and she knew
most of the parents of the other lads Betty mentioned.
"I see no reason, my dear," she said graciously when she heard of the
morning's visit, "why you should not go. Get the consent of your
chaperone and then settle on the afternoon. How many of you are invited?"
"Seven," answered Betty truthfully. "But I want Constance Howard to go,
Mrs. Eustice. The boys didn't know about her. She is Louise's roommate
you see, and we eight always do everything together."
"All right, Constance may go, too," acquiesced Mrs. Eustice.
Betty thanked her warmly and danced off to find Bobby. Then they flew to
ask Miss Anderson to be their chaperone, a duty that young woman assumed
cordially, and before bedtime Betty had written Bob a note to say that
they would be over Friday afternoon about half-past four.
Watched a little enviously by the others, the eight piled into the school
bus the next Friday afternoon. Miss Anderson tripped down the steps, took
her place among them, and they were off.
"Did you see that lovely blouse Ada had on?" Norma Guerin whispered to
Betty. "I do wish I could have one like that to wear with my suit."
"You look fifty times prettier than she does," flared Betty loyally. "And
you know I've told you to borrow anything of mine whenever you want to."
"I know it," admitted Norma. "But I can't borrow clothes! Silly or not, I
just can't seem to! I don't mean to complain all the time, either, but I
don't believe mother or granny realized how difficult it was going to be.
Alice cried so hard this afternoon when she started to get dressed I
thought she'd never get her eyes right again. They look red yet."
Sure enough, Alice's eyes were suspiciously pink about the corners. Betty
knew that the Guerin girls were unhappy, not alone because they could not
have as many or as pretty frocks as the other girls, but because they
were constantly worried about financial affairs at home. They had both
been made the confidantes of their parents to a greater degree than is
customary in many families, and Betty shrewdly suspected that Norma had
kept her father's books for him.
"I wish I could get hold of that treasure, or a part of it," Betty
thought. "Isn't it maddening to think of a string of pearls at the
bottom of a chasm and the girls to whom it should go struggling along on
next to nothing!"
They were half-way around the lake when the motor slowed down and the
bus stopped.
"What's the matter, George?" Miss Anderson asked.
"Don't know, Ma'am," answered the driver, a rather sleepy-looking
middle-aged man. "Guess I'll have to investigate her."
Scratching his head, he proceeded to "investigate," and at the end of
fifteen minutes hazarded an opinion that they were "out of luck."
"Looks like I'll have to go back to the school garage and get 'em to
send us a tow," he announced pleasantly.
"We want to go to the Academy!" chorused the girls. "We're late now. Oh,
George, can't you fix it?"
"Betty, don't you know anything about cars?" appealed Miss Anderson,
who had discovered that Betty was apt to be invaluable in an emergency
of any kind.
Betty had to confess that her experience had been confined to horses. The
Littell girls had been used to cars all their lives, but like the
majority of such fortunates, knew nothing about them beyond the colors
suitable for upholstery.
"I've helped my dad with his car," ventured Norma diffidently. "This
isn't the same make, but perhaps I can tell what the matter is."
The beautiful, expensive school bus was in fact another type than the
shabby, rattly affair Dr. Guerin made spin over the rough country roads.
However, Betty remembered at least one night, and she knew her experience
had been duplicated by many others, when the noise of the asthmatic
little car had been like sweetest music in her ears.
The doctor's daughter took off her plain jacket, rolled back her white
cuffs, and bent over the engine. George regarded her respectfully, and
Miss Anderson and the girls watched anxiously. If Norma could not send
them on their way it meant the trip must be given up.
Norma put her slim hands down among the oily plugs, selected a tool from
the kit George held out to her, and did something mysterious to the
"innards."
"Start her," she commanded briefly.
Obediently George took the wheel and touched the self-starter. The engine
purred contentedly.
"By gum!" cried George inelegantly, "she's done it!"
He produced a towel from the box for Norma, who managed to rub off most
of the grease from her hands. She put on her jacket and climbed into her
place between Betty and her sister. George proceeded to make up for lost
time at a speed that left them breathless.
"Here's the girl who got us here!" said Betty to Bob, when the group of
cadets met their bus at the athletic field where several cars were drawn
up on the sidelines.
"Then she shall have my fur coat and my best curly chrysanthemum,"
announced Tommy Tucker gallantly, throwing a handsome raccoon fur coat
over Norma's shoulders and presenting her with a magnificent yellow
chrysanthemum.
CHAPTER XVI
THE NUTTING PARTY
To the boy's surprise Bobby, who was usually aloof and liked to tease
him, squeezed his arm surreptitiously.
"You're a dear!" she told him enthusiastically.
"Girls are a queer lot," the dazed youth confided to Bob, as they went
back to their quarters. "Here I handed over my coat to that Norma Guerin
and gave her the flower I'd been saving for Bobby, just to pay Bobby back
for being so snippy to me over at school. And she calls me a dear and is
nicer to me than she's been in months!"
Bob briefly outlined something of the Guerin history, for Betty had told
him of the lost treasure in her hurried note, and hinted his belief that
the girls had very little money in comparison to Shadyside standards.
"Shucks--money isn't anything!" was Tommy's answer to the recital, with
the easy assurance of a person who has never been without a comfortable
competence. "They're nice girls, and we'll pass the word that the boys
are to show them a good time."
As a result, when after the conclusion of the game, the girls and Miss
Anderson were ushered upstairs into the cozy suite of rooms the cadets
occupied, Norma and Alice found themselves plied with attentions. Miss
Anderson poured the hot chocolate and made friends with the shy Sydney
Cooke, who had been dreading this visit all the afternoon. Indeed his
chums had threatened to lock him in the clothes closet in order that they
might be sure of his attendance.
Winifred Marion Brown, in addition to his ability as a checker player,
was a good pianist, and he obligingly played for them to dance. The piano
belonged to the Tucker twins. Norma and Alice were "rushed" with
partners, and they quite forgot their clothes in the enjoyment of dancing
to irresistible music.
Libbie had brought a book of poems for Timothy Derby, who solemnly loaned
her one of his in exchange. This odd pair remained impervious to all
criticisms, and certainly many of those voiced were frank to the point of
painfulness.
"But their natures can not understand the lyric appeal," said Libbie
sadly. Her English teacher moaned over her spelling and rejoiced in
her themes.
Finally Miss Anderson insisted they must go, and the bouquet of flowers
on the tea table was plucked apart to reveal nine little individual
bouquets, one for each guest.
"Good-bye, and thank you for a lovely party," said Miss Anderson gaily.
"Do you know?" blurted Teddy Tucker, "you're my idea of a chaperone! Most
of 'em are such dubs and kill-joys!"
Which tactful speech proved to be the best Teddy could have made.
A week of small pleasures and hard study followed this "glorious Friday
afternoon."
Bobby, for a wonder, remembered her promise of good behavior, and by
herculean effort managed to be on the "starred" list for the Saturday set
aside for the nutting expedition.
"We'll go after lunch," planned Betty. "Miss Anderson says if we strike
off toward the woods at the back of the school we ought to come to a
grove of hickory nut trees."
The eight girls, ready for their tramp, came in to lunch attired in heavy
wool skirts and stout shoes and carried their sweaters. Ada Nansen
glanced complacently at her own suede pumps and silk stockings.
"It's hard to tell which is really the farmer's daughter to-day," she
drawled. "Perhaps we all ought to assume that uniform out of kindness."
Ada sat at the table directly behind Norma, and not a girl at either
table could possibly miss the significance of her remarks. Their import,
it developed, had been plain to Miss Lacey who, on her way to her own
table, had overheard. Miss Lacey was a quiet, rather drab little woman,
misleading in her effacement of self. She knew more about her pupils than
they often suspected.
"Ada," she said quietly, stopping by the girl, "you may leave the table.
If you will persist in acting like a naughty little six year old girl,
you must be treated as one."
Ada flounced out of her chair and from the room. Her departure created a
ripple of curiosity. It was most unusual for a girl to be dismissed from
table, and had Ada only known it, she had drawn the attention of the
whole school to herself.
Miss Lacey went on to her seat, without a glance at the flushed faces of
Norma and Alice.
"Some day," said Bobby furiously, "I'm going to throw a plate at
that girl!"
"No, you're not," contradicted Betty. "Then Mrs. Eustice would rise up
and send you from the room and you'd feel about half the size Ada does
now. For mercy's sake, don't descend to anybody's level--make 'em come up
to fight on yours."
They were all glad to get through the meal and find themselves outdoors.
It was a perfect autumn day, warm and hazy, and the red and gold of the
leaves showed burnished from the hillside. They tramped rather silently
at first, and then, as the tense mood wore off, their tongues were
loosened and they chattered like magpies.
"Here's a tree!" shouted Louise and Frances, who were in the lead.
When they had picked all the nuts on the ground, Bobby essayed to climb
the tree. She made rather sad work of the effort, for a shag-bark
hickory is not the easiest tree in the world to climb, and after she had
torn her skirt in two places and mended it with safety pins, she gave up
the attempt.
"Let's walk further," she suggested. "We'll mark our trail as we go like
the Indians."
This idea caught the fancy of the girls, and they marked an elaborate
trail, building little mounds at every turn and leaving odd arrangements
of stones to mark their passing.
"Come on, I'll race you," shouted Bobby suddenly. "I feel just like
exercising."
Betty wondered what she called the scramble through the woods, but she,
too, was ready for a run. They set off pellmell, laughing and shouting.
"Look out!" shrieked Betty, stopping so suddenly that Libbie and Louise
fell against her. "Look! I almost ran right into it!"
She pointed ahead to where the ground fell away abruptly. A great chasm,
like an angry scar, was cut through the earth, and on the side opposite
to the girls a steep hill came down in an uncompromising slant.
"What a dandy hill for coasting!" ejaculated Bobby. "Let's come up here
this winter. We can steer away from this hole."
"That's no hole," said Norma Guerin, in an odd voice. "That's Indian
Chasm. And it's miles long."
Betty stared at her. She had thought Indian Chasm many miles away.
"I didn't realize we had walked so far," said Norma, apparently reading
her thoughts. "But I know I am right. Here are the woods and the steep
hill, just as grandma has described them a hundred times. This is
Indian Chasm."
The girls looked at her curiously. Betty had not told them the story,
believing that Alice and Norma should have that sole right. Now Norma
rapidly sketched the outlines for them and they listened breathlessly,
for surely this true story was more thrilling than any piece of fiction,
however highly colored.
"I never heard of anything so romantic!" was Libbie's comment.
To which Bobby retorted with cousinly severity:
"Romantic? Where do you see anything romantic in a band of Indians
scalping a peaceful white family?"
"Oh, Bobby!" protested Norma, laughing. "They didn't scalp grandma. They
stole everything she had."
"And is all that stuff down there now?" asked Constance Howard,
round-eyed. "Perhaps if we look we can see something."
There was a concerted rush to the chasm's edge, and the eight girls
plumped down flat on their stomachs, determined to see whatever there was
to be seen.
The sides of the earth fell away sharply, down, down. Betty shouted, and
the empty echo of her voice came back to her.
"The ground's so shaly and crumbly," she said thoughtfully, "that it
would be impossible to let a man down with a rope--the earth would cave
in and bury him."
"I think I see a diamond," reported Libbie. "Don't you see something
glittering down there?"
"Can't even see the bottom," said Bobby curtly. "Much less a diamond. Oh,
girls, to think of those valuables at the bottom of a chasm like this
and none of us able to think up a way to get 'em out."
"Well, lots of people have tried," said Alice reasonably. "If grown-up
men couldn't salvage 'em for grandma, I guess it's nothing to our
discredit that we can't get them."
"We might push Libbie in," suggested Bobby wickedly. "Then she could tell
us how deep it is."
This had the effect of sending Libbie scurrying away from the
dangerous place, and the others followed her more slowly to resume the
search for nuts.
"I wish we could think of a way, Norma, dear," said Betty.
"Oh, I don't care--not so very much," answered Norma bravely. But then
she sighed deeply.
CHAPTER XVII
CAUGHT IN THE STORM
The Shadyside gymnasium was equipped with a fine pool, and it was the
school's boast that every girl learned to swim during her first term.
Perhaps the proximity of the lake and the lure of the small fleet of
canoes and rowboats tied up at the wharf had something to do with the
success of the swimming classes. No girl who could not swim was permitted
on the lake, alone or with a companion.
Betty and her chums awaited their final tests eagerly--so excited the
last day or two they could scarcely keep their minds on their books or
sit in patience through a recitation--and passed them with flying colors.
Constance Howard was an excellent swimmer, and it was the sight of her
paddling gracefully about the lake on sunny Saturday afternoons that
spurred the seven who could not swim on to greater effort.
"Come on," cried Betty gaily, taking the gymnasium steps two at a time.
"Come, girls--this afternoon we go rowing. I've my 'stiffcut,' as Mr.
Peabody used to call it, and we've all passed. Oh, it's cloudy!"
She looked at the sky disappointedly. When they had gone into the pool an
hour before the sun had been shining brightly, but now the gray clouds
were thick overhead and the air was chilly.
"Who cares for the weather?" said Bobby scornfully. "Guess it will take
more than a little rain to stop me! I've been crazy to take a row-boat
out for three weeks."
"Perhaps it will clear," contributed the optimistic Louise.
But after lunch the sky was still overcast.
"Don't be silly--it won't rain," urged Bobby, as her chums demurred.
"Next Saturday it may be too cold. Oh, come on, girls."
Thus incited, they went down to the wharf and made their choice of boats.
Norma and Alice wanted to take out a canoe, and they offered to paddle
for Libbie, who seemed disinclined to exercise. Betty had wondered once
or twice if the girl were ill, for she seemed very nervous, jumped if a
door slammed or some one spoke to her suddenly, and in the morning looked
as if she had not slept well.
Betty and Bobby selected a flat-bottomed row-boat and for passenger they
took Frances, who offered to help row if they became tired.
Louise and Constance chose another canoe.
They headed north, and once out in the center of the lake, paddled
and rowed steadily. Betty's rowing experience was limited, but Bobby
was proud of her "stroke," and soon taught her chum the secret of
handling the oars.
"Ship ahoy!" shouted Bobby presently.
Libbie jumped and looked ahead anxiously.
"It's only the boys," she said dully.
An eight-oared rowing shell shot down to them, and the freckled-faced
coxswain, Gilbert Lane, one of the boys the girls had met at Bob and
Tommy's "party," grinned cheerfully.
"Where you going?" he asked, resting a friendly hand on the
rowboat's rim.
Bobby described an arc with her oar that incidentally showered the
questioner with shining water drops.
"We're out for adventure," she answered airily.
"Just got our swimming certificates to-day," volunteered Betty.
Bob flashed her a congratulatory smile.
"Race you to the end of the lake?" suggested Tommy Tucker.
Bobby regarded him with magnificent scorn.
"As if eight of you couldn't beat two!" she said significantly. "I never
heard such talk! Why you'd have a walk!" she added.
The boys shouted with laughter.
"You're a poet, Bobby," declared Tommy. "Tennyson had nothing on
you--had he, Libbie?"
Libbie turned her dark eyes on him and frowned a little.
"I wasn't listening," she said indifferently.
"Well, anyway, row up to the end of the lake, will you?" suggested
Gilbert. "With drill night ahead of us, we want a little brightness to
remember the day by."
Canoes, rowboat and shell swept on up the lake, and when the scrubby
pines that bordered the narrow peak of the north shore were in sight,
Bobby glanced back over her shoulder at Betty.
"You're spattering me," she complained.
"I thinks it's beginning to rain," said Betty mildly, and even as she
spoke, Louise called to them:
"Girls, it's beginning to pour!"
A sudden blast of wind struck them, blowing the rain against their backs.
"Keep on rowing!" shouted Bob's voice. "We'll have to land and walk back.
You girls can never beat back against this storm. We're almost to the
shore now."
A few minutes more and the boats touched shore. The boys were out in an
instant and helped the girls to land.
"We'll carry up the boats--don't you think that is best, Tommy?" shouted
Bob. "If we carry them up high enough and leave them, they will be
perfectly safe."
The wind and the rain made shouting necessary if one's voice were to
carry above the storm. The boys lifted the light boats and carried them
into the woods, turning them over so that the keels were up.
"Now the question is," said Bob, who seemed by common consent to have
been elected leader, "shall we walk along the shore and get drenched, or
take a chance of finding our way through the woods?"