Billie Bradley and Her Inheritance - Janet D. Wheeler
BILLIE BRADLEY AND HER INHERITANCE
OR
THE QUEER HOMESTEAD AT CHERRY CORNERS
BY JANET D. WHEELER
1920
BILLIE BRADLEY AND HER INHERITANCE
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. AN ACCIDENT.
II. THAT HUNDRED DOLLARS.
III. CHET HELPS.
IV. THE LAST HOPE.
V. WORSE AND WORSE.
VI. DEBBIE DESERTS.
VII. A STRANGE BURGLAR.
VIII. STARTLING DEVELOPMENTS.
IX. GHOSTS AND THINGS.
X. OLD FURNITURE.
XI. BILLIE WINS OUT.
XII. GREAT PLANS.
XIII. CHERRY CORNERS.
XIV. WEIRD TALES.
XV. A NOISE IN THE DARK.
XVI. SHADOWS AND MYSTERY.
XVII. ONLY A BAT.
XVIII. A FISH STORY.
XIX. IN THE DEAD OF THE NIGHT.
XX. THE MOTOR AGAIN.
XXI. BOTH AT ONCE.
XXII. A THRILLING DISCOVERY.
XXIII. THE WRECKED AEROPLANE.
XXIV. COINS AND POSTAGE STAMPS.
XXV. "LARGE FORTUNES."
BILLIE BRADLEY AND HER INHERITANCE
CHAPTER I
AN ACCIDENT
"Aren't you glad that we are only going back to school for a little
while?" cried Billie Bradley, as she gave a little exultant skip.
"Suppose it were fall and we were beginning high--"
"Billie, stop it," commanded Laura Jordon, turning a pair of very blue
and very indignant eyes upon her chum. "I thought we were going to forget
school for a little while."
"Well, we're not going back for anything I forgot," Billie was asserting
when Violet Farrington, the third of the trio, interposed:
"If you two are going to quarrel on a day like this, I'm going home."
"Who said we were quarreling?" cried Billie, adding with a chuckle:
"We're just having what Miss Beggs" (Miss Beggs being their English
teacher) "would call an 'amiable discussion.'"
"Listen to the bright child!" cried Laura mockingly. "I don't see how
you ever get that way, Billie."
"Neither do I," replied Billie, adding with a chuckle as they turned to
stare at her: "Just natural talent, I guess."
The three chums--and three brighter, prettier girls it would be hard to
find--were on their way to the grammar school which had just closed the
week before. Laura had forgotten a book which she prized highly and was
in hope that the janitor, a good-natured old fellow, would let her in
long enough to get it. At the last minute she had asked the other girls
to go with her.
The three chums had lived in North Bend, a town of less than twenty
thousand people, practically all their lives. The girls loved it, for it
was a pretty place. Still, being only forty miles by rail from New York
City, they had been taken to the roaring metropolis once in a while as a
treat, and it was only with great difficulty that their parents had
succeeded in luring them home again.
Among other things North Bend boasted a jewelry factory, of which Raymond
Jordon, Laura's father, was the owner.
Billie's father was the prominent Martin Bradley, well known among real
estate and insurance men, and it was from him that Billie, whose real
name was Beatrice, had taken her brown eyes and brown hair and even that
merry, irrepressible imp of mischief that made Billie Bradley the most
popular, best-loved girl in all North Bend.
Her mother, Agnes Bradley, quiet, sincere and beautiful to look upon,
kept just the check on her gay young daughter that the young girl needed.
Billie had a brother, Chetwood Bradley, commonly known as "Chet"--a boy
as different from his sister as night is from day, yet, in his own more
quiet way, extremely attractive.
Laura's brother, Theodore, known to his intimates as Teddy, was a
handsome boy, as full of wild spirits as Billie herself. Teddy had
entertained a lively admiration for Billie Bradley since he was seven and
she was six. Teddy was tall for his fifteen years, and had already made a
name for himself in the field of athletics.
The third of the chums was Violet Farrington, a daughter of Richard
Farrington, a well-known lawyer of North Bend, and Grace Farrington, a
sweet, motherly woman.
Nearly everybody loved Violet, who was tall and dark and sweet-tempered.
She also acted as a sort of perpetual peace-maker between brown-eyed
Billie and blue-eyed Laura.
So now she was acting again on this glorious day in July when the roses
were out and the birds were singing and the sun was shining its
brightest.
"What shall we do if we can't get in?" suggested Billie, waving her hand
to Nellie Bane, another girl in her class, who passed on the opposite
side of the street.
"I suppose we'd have to go home again," answered Laura, adding with a
little worried frown: "Oh, I do hope I can get the book. I wouldn't lose
it for anything."
"There goes Amanda Peabody," cried Violet suddenly, clutching
Billie's arm.
"That makes no difference in my young life," Billie slangily assured her.
"As long as she _goes_, it's all right," added Laura, glancing after the
lanky figure of Amanda Peabody as the girl swung off in the other
direction.
Amanda Peabody was not popular with the girls. Nor was she with anybody,
for that matter. As far as the girls knew, she had not one friend in the
whole school.
Amanda was red-haired and freckled; and while these attributes alone
could not have accounted for her unpopularity, she added to them a
tendency to spy upon the other girls and then run and tell what she had
seen or heard.
It was this last characteristic that no fair-minded girl would tolerate
and so Amanda had lived in practical ostracism ever since she had come to
North Bend two years before.
"I don't think we ought to be too hard on her," said Violet, as they
turned the corner that brought the school into view. "She can't help her
mean disposition, I suppose. And anyway, Miss Beggs says there's always
some good to be found in everybody."
"Maybe," said Billie skeptically, "but hers is so small you would need a
microscope to see it. There's the janitor now, just going out. If we run
we can catch him."
And run they did, presenting themselves a minute later, rather red in the
face and out of breath, before a very much amused janitor.
"Hello," he cried, his twinkling eyes under their shaggy brows lighting
with pleasure as he looked at the girls. "Are you young ladies tryin' to
catch a train, or what?"
"Oh, no, no," cried Violet eagerly. "We were just trying to catch you,
Mr. Heegan."
"Oh-ho! An' it's mighty flattered I am," said Mr. Heegan, his Irish
brogue coming to the fore. "An' what, if I might be askin' you--"
"It's a book we left here," Billie broke in quickly. "Laura wants to know
if you will let us in long enough to get it."
"Sure, an' I will that," Mr. Heegan assured them, leading the way into
the school yard and pulling out his bunch of keys. "It must be a verra
important book," he added, smiling at them as he fitted the key in the
lock, "to be bringing you back to school after school's out."
"It was a gift from Father," Laura explained. "And I wouldn't lose it
for anything."
"All right, there you go," said the good-natured janitor, swinging the
door wide for them. "I'm goin' home, but I'll be comin' back in a few
minutes to lock up. You'd best not be stayin' here then," he added, with
a twinkling backward glance at them, "or it will be locked up for the
night you'll be."
"We won't be more than a minute," Violet assured him, and jubilantly the
girls ran through the empty, echoing hall and stopped before a door at
the farther end.
"It seems so horribly quiet," said Violet, looking around at them with
her hands on the door knob. "It makes you feel like a thief."
"Must be your guilty conscience," said Laura wickedly. "Come on, Vi;
we've got to hurry if we don't want to be 'locked in for the night.'"
"Are you sure you left the book here, Laura?" asked Billie, as
Violet opened the door and they crowded in. "It would be too bad if
it were gone--"
But a cry from Laura interrupted her.
"There it is," she said, running to a desk at the farther end of the room
and picking up from an inner corner a prettily bound book. "Just the very
place I left it, too. My, but I'm glad to get it back again."
"What do you think you're doing, Billie Bradley?" inquired Laura a
minute later, for Billie had seated herself at the teacher's desk and was
looking as severe as she knew how.
"Take your seats," she now commanded, rapping vigorously on the desk and
fixing them with her best school-teacher stare. "Violet Farrington, go to
the board--"
But she got no further, for with an indignant cry the girls had rushed on
her. Dropping both her air of command and her dignity, Billie scurried
wildly around the room, keeping the desks between her and her pursuers.
"You can't catch me! You can't catch me!" she taunted them, as she
dodged nimbly in and out among the desks. "I could keep this up all day,
I could--"
"Oh, you could, could you?" cried Laura, and, making a desperate lunge,
she almost had her hand on Billie's dress. "We'll see about that. Billie!
what are you doing?"
For Billie had suddenly doubled on her tracks, rushed to the back of the
room, put her foot upon a steam radiator pipe and was trying to clamber
to the top of a bookcase.
It was a tall bookcase, and on the top of it stood a marble statue.
"Billie, look out!" screamed Violet as the bookcase shook and the statue
seemed about to topple over by reason of Billie's wild scrambling.
"You won't catch me this time," Billie was defying them, when--the awful
thing happened!
The marble statue toppled once more, trembled as though it were not quite
sure whether to fall or stay where it was, then came tumbling to the
floor with a crash.
The girls cried out, and then stood dumbly looking at the pieces.
CHAPTER II
THAT HUNDRED DOLLARS
Billie Bradley clambered down from her perch in awed silence.
"Girls," she said, her voice very low and solemn, "that 'Girl Reading a
Book' statue was worth a hundred dollars."
The girls started, and Laura cried out:
"How do you know it cost that much?"
"I heard Miss Beggs say so," Billie replied dully. "Now I certainly have
done it. Girls, what shall I do?"
"It--it couldn't be put together again, could it?" suggested Violet
weakly, leaning down to examine the pieces.
"Of course it couldn't," sniffed Laura, adding suddenly: "I suppose we
could run away and nobody would know the dif--"
"Look," cried Billie, excitedly pointing to one of the windows.
Following the direction of her glance the girls were just in time to see
the freckled face and mean little eyes of Amanda Peabody disappear from
the window.
"Oh, that sneak!" cried Laura in a rage, rushing across to the window
while the other girls followed close at her heels. "I wish I were a boy
and she were another one. I'd just show her!"
"Well, now she will tell and we couldn't run away even if we wanted to,"
said Billie, sinking down on a bench and looking at them wistfully. "Of
course we wouldn't really have wanted to," she added, after a minute of
uncomfortable silence. "Only it makes me mad to _have_ to do the right
thing. Oh, I don't see why somebody doesn't run that Amanda person out
of town," she went on, doubling up her fists and looking as if it might
have been just as well for that "Amanda person" that she was not there
at the minute.
"Teddy says he calls her 'Nanny,'" said Violet, with a flash of humor,
"because it 'gets her goat.'"
"Sounds just like Ted," said Billie, with a smile. Then her face sobered
again as she realized the gravity of the situation.
"Of course I'll have to make it good," she said, going over to the pieces
again and regarding them mournfully. "But how in the world am I ever
going to get together a hundred dollars? It might just as well be a
thousand as far as I'm concerned." The last was a wail.
"Won't your father give you the money?" asked Laura, for to Laura's
father a hundred dollars was only a drop in the bucket.
But Billie only shook her head while her face became still more grave.
"He would if he could," she said, "but I heard him say only the other day
that times are hard and everything is terribly expensive, and I know he
is worried. Oh, girls, I'm in a terrible fix!"
"I know you are, honey," said Violet, coming over and putting a
comforting arm about her. "But there must be some way that we can fix
things all right."
"I'd like to know how," grumbled Laura, who had chosen to take the gloomy
view. "We might," she added generously, after a moment's thought, "say
that I broke it--"
"Laura--dear!" cried Billie, not quite sure whether to be offended or
grateful for the generous suggestion. "It's wonderful of you, of course,
but you know I couldn't do that."
"And there's Amanda Peabody," added Violet. "She wouldn't let us get away
with anything like that."
At which Laura nodded again, still more gloomily.
"Well," cried Billie, straightening up suddenly and trying to look
hopeful, "I suppose it won't do any good to stand here and look at the
pieces. Besides," she added with a start, "we've been here a terribly
long time, and we don't want the janitor to lock us in."
They started for the door on the run, but Billie suddenly turned, ran
back and began gathering up the pieces of the broken statue.
"What are you going to do?" asked Violet, regarding her curiously.
"What does it look as if I were doing?" asked Billie, reaching for an old
newspaper that lay in the forgotten paper basket. "I might as well have
the evidence of my crime. Anyway, I want to take them to Miss Beggs."
"Do you know where she lives?" asked Laura, stooping and helping Billie
at her task.
"She sent me there one time to get some papers," Billie explained, as she
rose to her feet, clutching the newspaper package. "It's a boarding house
on Main Street, only a few blocks from here."
"Shall we go there now?" asked Violet as they closed the door softly
behind them and started down the hall.
"We might as well," answered Billie, with a sigh. "The sooner I get it
over with, the better I'll feel. But oh, that hundred dollars!"
"Never mind, we'll get it if we have to steal it," said Laura firmly, as
they came out into the flower-sweet air.
"That would be like jumping from the frying pan into the fire," remarked
Violet, at which the girls had to laugh.
As they swung out through the gate they met Mr. Heegan coming in, and he
smiled at them from under his bushy brows.
"Did you get what you were after comin' for?" he asked them.
"Yes. And something we didn't come for," answered Billie, while the color
flooded her face and she felt like a criminal. She smiled a wry little
smile and displayed the newspaper package.
"Meanin'--" Mr. Heegan began, puzzled.
"I--I broke a statue that was on the bookcase," explained Billie. "We
were skylarking--"
"And many's the time I've done the same in my day," said Mr. Heegan, with
a nod, looking not nearly as shocked as the girls thought he would. "And
sure, what are you made young for, if it wasn't that you was meant to be
skylarkin' all the time?"
The girls looked at each other. This strange sentiment had never occurred
to them before, but they found it very comforting, nevertheless.
"But--but," stammered Billie, "this statue cost a hundred dollars. And it
was given to Miss Beggs by a rich uncle."
"Well, all I have to say is, that any one who would spend a
hundred dollars on a statue," said Mr. Heegan, "deserves to have
it broken on him."
And having delivered himself of this surprising comment, the janitor
saluted and ambled off into the school yard, leaving the girls to look
after him with laughing eyes.
"You know I just love Irishmen," remarked Billie with emphasis, as they
started on their way once more.
In thoughtful silence, they walked the remaining three blocks to the
boarding house where Miss Beggs lived.
"This is it," said Billie, as she came to a stop before a three-story
brick building that had all the respectable and uncomfortable appearance
of a typical boarding house.
"Just like Miss Beggs," Billie was conscious of thinking.
"Well, let's go up," urged Laura, as Billie showed no inclination to
move. "We might as well get the agony over with."
"All right, come on," cried Billie, running ahead of them and taking two
steps at a time. "As Dad says: 'A coward dies a thousand deaths, the
brave man only one.'"
The end of this quotation brought them to the porch, and Billie looked
for the bell.
"Now then," she said, and braced herself for the ordeal.
A stout, middle-aged person, without any of the outward characteristics
that are so often bestowed upon landladies in general, opened the door
and looked at them inquiringly.
"Is there some one you wish to see?" she asked them.
"Yes," replied Billie in a weak little voice. "I would like to see
Miss--Miss Beggs if she is at home."
"She isn't," said the middle-aged person. "She went away for the summer
two days ago."
"Did she leave any address?" Billie managed to ask.
"No, she didn't; but I guess I could find out from one of the other
ladies who is a friend of hers," the woman volunteered obligingly. "That
is, if it's very particular," she added.
"Oh, yes it is," said Billie earnestly. "I would be very much obliged if
you could get me her address."
"Well, I can't just now, because the lady that knows it isn't at home.
But if you'll leave me your address I'll send it to you as soon's I find
it out. Have you paper and pencil?"
The girls had not.
"Wait then, and I'll get something on which to write your address."
The landlady went inside, closing the door after her, and in spite of
herself Billie uttered a little sigh of relief. She felt very much like a
reprieved criminal.
A moment later the woman reappeared with a pencil and paper and
painstakingly wrote down the address Billie gave her.
"Thank you so much," said the latter, as she turned away. "You won't
forget to send it just the first minute you can, will you?"
The woman nodded and closed the door with a little bang.
"I wonder why she didn't ask us in," said Laura, as they ran down the
steps. "It was queer to keep us waiting outside."
"Yes, it makes you feel like a book agent," chuckled Billie. "But oh,
girls," she added, "I didn't know how much I dreaded facing Miss
Beggs till I found out I didn't have to. I don't mind writing to her
nearly so much."
With somewhat lighter steps and lighter hearts they turned toward home.
But Billie could not get the hundred-dollar statue which she had broken
out of her mind.
"I feel," said Laura, as they were turning the corner into her own
street, "as if I ought to pay for that horrid old statue, Billie."
"What do you mean?" queried Billie, while Violet regarded her with wide
open eyes.
"Well, if it hadn't been for me and my old book," she explained,
"we wouldn't have gone back to school, and then you wouldn't have
gotten yourself into all that trouble. I really do feel guilty,"
she added earnestly. "I wish you would at least let me help you
pay for it, Billie."
Billie put an arm about the girl and squeezed her lovingly.
"And I suppose you're to blame for my climbing the bookcase, too," she
chided her fondly. "No, Laura dear, it's all my fault and you can't make
me put the blame on any one else. But, oh!" she wailed, "how in the world
am I ever going to raise that hundred dollars?"
CHAPTER III
CHET HELPS
The sun was flooding Billie Bradley's room when she awoke the next
morning, and she sat up in bed with the feeling that it must be very
late. She glanced at the little clock on the dresser and saw that its
hands pointed to half past eight.
"Oh, I'll be late to school," was her first thought. Then she checked
herself and laughed.
"School!" she said, stretching her arms above her head with a delicious
sense of freedom. "As the old man said: 'They ain't no sech animile.' I
guess I might just as well get up, though, for I feel as if I were
starving to death."
She was just putting her feet into very pretty bedroom slippers when she
remembered the tragedy--or so it seemed to her--of the day before.
The long night's rest had driven from her mind all thoughts of the
statue. Was it really only yesterday that she had broken it? The thing
seemed to have been on her conscience forever!
"'Girl Reading a Book,'" she said disdainfully, as she began to brush her
hair vigorously. "Horrid old thing! I suppose she was a grind anyway,
like Amanda Peabody."
The thought of Amanda did not serve to lift her spirits any, and it
was in a rather gloomy mood that she finally descended to the
breakfast table.
To make things worse, she found that all the rest of her family,
including Chet, had breakfasted bright and early, which meant that she
would have to eat her breakfast in lonely state.
The room was cheerful with sunlight, for Mrs. Bradley had often said that
a bright dining-room had more to do with making a happy home than any
other one thing. But this morning Billie did not even notice it.
She opened the swinging door to the kitchen and peeped in cautiously to
see whether Debbie, their black and much pampered cook, was in a good
enough mood to cook her some breakfast.
A cheerful aroma greeted her, and she sniffed at it longingly. Bacon and
eggs and--was it corn bread that Debbie was just taking out of the oven?
"Oh, Debbie, give me something to eat, quick," she cried. "I'm starving."
Debbie turned and favored her with a large black stare.
"Dem dat gets up at nine o'clock in de mo'nin'," she declared, "done
deserves to go hungry, Miss Billie, beggin' your pardon." Her tone
matched the severity of her gaze.
"Oh, but, Debbie," said Billie, using the coaxing tone that even black
Deborah, tyrant of the household, could never quite resist, "remember how
many mornings I have had to get up at seven and go out in the drizzling
rain and--"
"All right, honey, all right," said Deborah, her heart touched by this
reference to the hardships her young mistress had suffered. "You go in
'tother room an' don't bother Debbie an' she'll bring you in the
prettiest breakfast you ever did see."
Somewhat cheered by this promise, Billie retreated into the sun-flooded
dining-room, and, going over to a window under which flowers bloomed
gayly in boxes, looked out at the pretty view.
From where she stood she commanded a full view of the tennis court, on
which she could see that a warm set of singles was in progress. One of
the players was Chet, and as she watched she saw him fling his racket
high in the air.
"My set, Tom!" he cried. "That puts us even. Play you the rubber this
afternoon. So long!" and with his tennis balls in his hand and his racket
under his arm he sauntered over toward home.
"Dear old Chet!" murmured Billie fondly.
Then came the thought of that hundred dollars she must get some way or
other, and suddenly there flashed into her mind a little ray of hope.
"Maybe Chet could help," she thought, and then laughed at herself for
thinking it. Chet had just about as much chance of getting that hundred
dollars as she had herself.
At that moment Debbie came in with her fruit and cereal, and she turned
from the window with a sigh.
"I might as well eat," she thought resignedly, "for if I starve myself to
death or die of worry, there won't be anybody left to pay for that old
book worm."
Then her irrepressible imp of mischief reasserted itself and she laughed.
"Hello, look at the grand lady," a fresh young voice called to her from
the doorway. She turned with a spoon half way to her mouth to see her
brother laughing at her.
"What was that you called me?" she asked. As a matter of fact, her
thoughts had been so far away that she actually had not heard what he
said.
"Say, what's the matter?" asked Chet, flinging his tennis racket into one
chair and seating himself on the arm of another. "Are you sick?"
"Yes. Or if I'm not, I ought to be," replied Billie ruefully, at which
peculiar remark Chet looked still more amazed.
"Now what particular thing is worrying you?" he asked in an argumentative
tone, leaning toward her. "Come, 'fess up, Billie. What have you been
doing when my back was turned? Robbing a bank?"
"Oh, much worse than that!" cried Billie unexpectedly, and her brother's
good-looking face began to take on an expression of alarm.
"Worse?" he queried. "There's only about one thing worse--and
that's murder."
"Oh, Chet, that's just what I did," she cried, her imp of mischief
uppermost. "I murdered a 'Girl Reading a Book.'"
"Well," said Chet, taking this startling bit of information more calmly
than would have been thought possible, "you don't seem very much worried
about it."
"Oh, but, Chet, I am!" once more the cloud banished the merry gleam in
Billie's eyes. "Wait till I show you."
She left her breakfast, ran upstairs, and was back in a minute with the
newspaper parcel.
"Here she is," she cried, displaying the contents tragically.
Chet fingered one or two of the broken bits. Then he looked at her
curiously.
"Go on, 'fess up," he commanded. "Tell yours truly all about it."
This Billie did in the fewest words possible and then sat down to the
bacon and eggs that Debbie had placed temptingly on the table. And
cornbread! Debbie's cornbread was a masterpiece.