Billie Bradley and Her Inheritance - Janet D. Wheeler
When Billie had finished Chet looked grave.
"Well," he said, fingering the pieces thoughtfully, "it does seem as if
the only square thing to do would be to replace it."
"Oh, I must, Chet--I must!" she interrupted earnestly.
"But how?" he asked. "A hundred dollars is a lot of money."
"I know," agreed Billie miserably.
"I don't think Dad will be able to make it good just now," went on Chet,
in that sober tone that made people in North Bend feel confidence in
Chetwood Bradley, young as he yet was. "I heard him say the other day
that all his capital was tied up. And then it costs so much to live--"
"Oh, I know all that!" broke in Billie desperately, then added, looking
up at her brother appealingly: "Chet dear, I've got to find the money to
replace that statue some way! Won't you help me?"
"You bet your life I will," cried Chet, with a hearty boyishness that
made Billie's eyes glow. "I'll do everything I can, Sis. I tell you--" he
paused as a thought struck him.
"Oh, what?" she cried, grasping his arm as he started from the room. "Oh,
Chet, tell me."
"I'll show you in a minute," he promised, and was off, up the stairs,
taking them three at a time, judging from the noise he made.
In what seemed to Billie no time at all he was back again, holding
something in his hand that jingled.
"Here's a dollar and fifteen cents," he said, holding out to her all
his available wealth. "I almost forgot I had it. You can use it to start
the fund."
"Oh, Chet!" Billie's eyes were wet and she hugged him fondly. "You're the
very darlingest brother I ever had!"
"And the _only_ one--" Chet was beginning, when Billie interrupted him
by breaking away and putting a finger to her forehead.
"Let me think--"
"Impossible," he cried in a deep voice.
"Chet," she said, speaking quickly, "I have seventy-five cents myself,
and that with your dollar--"
"Dollar fifteen," Chet corrected gravely.
"Will make quite a respectable start to our fund." And she was off up the
stairs in her turn, making almost as much noise as Chet had done.
In a moment she was back again with the precious seventy-five cents and a
small tin box.
"Here's the bank," she cried gayly. "It will be real fun filling it up."
"Yes, but where are we going to get the money to fill it up with?" Chet
reminded her and her bright face fell again.
"Oh, we'll find a way," she said with a confidence she was far from
feeling. "Maybe Dad will help a little."
"Have you told him about it?" asked Chet.
"No. But I will to-night," she said, with a little sinking feeling. "I
hate to tell him, awfully, but I suppose I'll have to."
"Well, don't worry anyway," said Chet, patting her shoulder reassuringly.
"You know Dad says worry is a waste of time, because everything will all
be the same a hundred years from now."
But Billie's shake of the head was very doubtful.
"I don't see how that helps me any--_now_," she said.
CHAPTER IV
THE LAST HOPE
That afternoon Billie took herself and a book out on the porch and tried
hard, but unsuccessfully, to forget her troubles. The more she tried to
fix her attention on the printed page before her, the more the broken
statue rose before her eyes until at last she closed the book with a slam
and bounced impatiently in her seat.
"That horrid old 'Girl Reading a Book' has spoiled my whole summer for
me," she said, her lips pouting rebelliously. "I wish I hadn't gone back
to the old school anyway. I might have known it would bring me bad luck.
Oh, here comes Laura," and her face brightened as she saw the familiar
figure of her chum swinging up the street. "I wonder what she wants.
Whatever it is, she seems to be in a terrible hurry about it."
"Hello, what's the rush?" she sang out, as Laura Jordon ran up the steps
of the porch.
"It's--it's that--that Nanny goat Amanda Peabody!" cried Laura, panting a
little, for she had indeed been in a hurry. "What do you think the old
sneak has been up to now?"
"What?" queried Billie, as she moved over to make room for her chum in
the seat beside her. "Telling tales again?"
"How did you guess it?" cried Laura, her face flushing with indignation.
"And about you, Billie! Oh, I could have killed her!"
"Well, we expected it, didn't we?" Billie asked, in a matter-of-fact
tone. "We knew when we saw her looking in at the window that that was
exactly what she would do."
"Well, I know. But she went to the janitor about it." And Laura looked as
if that in some way magnified the offense.
"Well, there wasn't any one else to go to," remarked Billie reasonably.
"Goodness! aren't you even mad about it?" asked Laura, her blue
eyes snapping.
"Not particularly," replied Billie, for she was beginning to be terribly
tired of the whole subject. How she hated that imbecile "Girl Reading a
Book" and Amanda Peabody and--and--everybody!
"I got all over being angry with Amanda Peabody long ago," she said in
answer to Laura's incredulous look. "If I should get that way every time
she did anything, I'd never live to grow up!"
In spite of her indignation, Laura chuckled.
"I never did think of it in that way," she admitted, adding, after a
minute's thought: "Billie, dear, haven't you thought of some way you
might pay for the statue? I didn't sleep a wink last night for
thinking of it."
"Neither did I," said Billie gloomily, forgetting that she had in reality
slept very soundly. "Chet and I have started a fund with a dollar fifteen
of his and seventy-five cents of mine. That's as far as we have got so
far. I did think of Uncle Bill," she added slowly, mentioning a great
uncle who occasionally visited them.
"Great! Uncle Bill!" repeated Laura, pricking up her ears. "The uncle who
used to trot you on his knee and call you 'Bill's Billie'?"
"Yes," Billie nodded. "Uncle Bill and I were always good chums, and I
think if I told him what a fix I'm in, he might be able to help. He has
loads of money too."
"Billie," cried her chum rapturously, "why didn't you think of that
before? Why, it's the very thing!"
"But I hate to ask him," sighed Billie, not sharing Laura's enthusiasm in
the least. "I never had to ask anything of anybody before."
"Well, everything has to have a beginning," said Laura, lightly adding,
as unconcernedly as she could: "I told Teddy about it last night."
"You did!" cried Billie, turning upon her while the color flooded her
face. "Laura, what did you do that for?"
"You don't mind, do you?" queried Laura, wide-eyed. "I'm sure I never
thought of your not wanting Teddy to know."
"Oh, I suppose it doesn't make any difference," sighed Billie, adding
plaintively: "Only I don't like everybody to know how crazy I am."
"Teddy doesn't think you're crazy," said Laura, with a chuckle, regarding
Billie out of the corner of her eye. "In fact, if I should tell you what
he does think of you--"
"Oh, don't be foolish," almost snapped Billie, and again Laura
chuckled inwardly.
"Well, you needn't be so cross," she said. "I can't help what Teddy does
or thinks. Here he comes now," she added, glancing up the street.
"Oh, and I'm a perfect fright!" cried Billie, her hands flying to her
hair--hair, by the way, which was arranged in the very best manner to set
off Billie's sparkling prettiness. "Laura," she turned accusing eyes upon
her chum, "tell the truth. Did you know he was coming?"
"No," said Laura honestly, adding with a little chuckle: "But I sort of
had an idea that he might happen along."
If ever a boy looked handsome, it was Teddy Jordon as he swung up the
street to Billie's house. He was very tall, looking more like a lad of
eighteen than the fifteen years he was. His fair hair waved back from a
broad forehead, and his merry gray eyes sparkled with the joy of living.
"Hello!" he greeted the girls, as he took the porch steps two at a time
and seated himself on the railing. "Laura has been telling me of your
escapade, Billie Bradley, and I've come to find out what you mean by
going about busting busts--that isn't good English, is it?"
"It doesn't sound just right," agreed Billie, dimpling adorably. "You
speak as if I were bust--pardon me, _breaking_ busts for a living. And
it wasn't a bust, but a whole statue. No part way things for me!"
"There's Nellie Bane, I must speak to her," cried Laura, and before
either of the others realized what she was up to, she was gone, leaving
them alone.
Quite naturally Teddy came over and took the seat his sister had vacated.
"I say, Billie," he said, his handsome eyes regarding her frankly, "you
know, I'm really awfully sorry about that business. It makes me mad that
you should be troubled with it. You and I have always been pretty good
friends, haven't we?" he finished unexpectedly.
Surprised, Billie answered warmly: "The very best of friends, Teddy. We
ought to be," she added with a little laugh. "We've known each other
pretty nearly forever."
"Then let me help," begged Teddy earnestly. "You know my allowance is
away more than I need--"
But Billie stopped him, shaking her head decidedly.
"You're a perfect angel, Teddy, to want to do it," she said. "But I
really couldn't let you. Don't you know I couldn't?"
"I don't see why," grumbled Teddy, for after all he was only a boy,
and just now a disappointed one. "Laura says you're set on replacing
the thing--"
"Of course I'll have to," Billie said.
"And if you are going around getting yourself sick with worry, what sort
of good time do you think the rest of us are going to have?" he burst out
indignantly, and for the life of her Billie could not help smiling.
For a moment Teddy seemed undecided whether to laugh or be angry, but
ended, as he nearly always did, by laughing.
"But it really isn't very funny," he reminded her when they had finished.
"Goodness! you don't have to tell me that," said Billie ruefully. "This
is the first good laugh I've had since I broke the old thing."
Teddy looked penitent.
"I'm sorry," he said, adding, with a sudden smile: "I'm glad to know I'm
good for something, anyway. I can still make you laugh."
"You very foolish boy," said Billie, patting his hand affectionately.
"As if that were all you were good for!"
"Well, if you feel that way, I don't see why you won't let me replace
the statue," said Teddy, still nursing his disappointment. "Girls are
funny, anyway."
"We know it," said Billie lightly. "But we can't help it. Listen, Teddy,"
and she leaned toward him confidentially. "I still have one hope left."
Then she told him about Uncle Bill and his fondness for her, and during
the recital the boy brightened noticeably.
"Well, I hope the old boy comes up to the scratch," he commented
disrespectfully, adding hurriedly as Laura said good-bye to Nellie Bane
and started toward them: "And, Billie, if you change your mind about what
I asked you let me know. Promise?"
Billie promised, and a few minutes later said good-bye to the brother and
sister and watched them down the street with a very warm feeling
somewhere in the region of her heart.
"Isn't it great to have friends?" she asked a robin that had perched
itself on the edge of the porch and was looking at her knowingly. "And
isn't Teddy the handsomest boy you ever saw?" to which the robin, knowing
little rascal that he was, nodded not once but twice.
Chet came up on the porch a few minutes later and enticed Billie out for
a game of tennis with him, hoping to get her mind off the broken statue.
But while she was too full of life and health not to enjoy the swift,
swinging game that Chet gave her, the thought of "The Girl Reading a
Book" stayed constantly in the back of her mind.
That night after dinner Billie broke the news to her father, and her
heart sank as she saw the harassed look that came into his eyes.
"You say it cost a hundred dollars?" he queried, breaking a silence
during which Billie had felt like a criminal awaiting sentence. Now she
nodded unhappily.
"A hundred dollars," her father repeated. "Well, that's a lot to pay,
Beatrice, for just a few minutes' reckless fun. Of course I can pay it,
but that will mean putting off some affairs of more pressing
importance--"
But Billie could stand it no longer, and with a little cry she flew to
him and pressed her soft cheek against his.
"Daddy, I'm a brute to worry you like this!" she cried, penitently.
"Please don't worry any more, dear. I'll find some way to replace the old
thing myself."
Her father patted her cheek, but the worried frown still remained on
his face. Billie started to leave the room but turned before she had
reached the door.
"Dad," she said hesitatingly, and he turned to her with a smile. "About
Uncle Bill," she said. "He has always given me anything I wanted. Do you
suppose he would help?"
"He is out of the country--gone on a business trip that has taken him on
an ocean voyage," said her father. "He will be gone for an indefinite
period. I thought you knew, Billie. Though, as he just left, I suppose it
is not strange you had not heard us speak of it." And with that Mr.
Bradley relapsed immediately into his brown study.
Billie opened the door and closed it softly behind her.
"My last hope!" she sighed plaintively. "Now what shall I do?"
CHAPTER V
WORSE AND WORSE
Two weeks passed, and still Billie Bradley had found no solution to
her problem. The broken statue seemed as far from being paid for as
ever, and, as far as she was concerned, the summer vacation was
completely spoiled.
In this frame of mind she crushed a soft straw hat down over her brown
hair one day and set out to find her chums, feeling the need of their
sympathy. And how was she to know, poor Billie, that the news the girls
would have to tell her would serve only to make her mood the blacker?
As she neared the Farrington home, Violet herself came rushing out to
meet her, looking unusually and feverishly excited.
"Oh, Billie, what do you think?" she cried, encircling Billie with her
arm and fairly dragging her up on the porch. "I have the most wonderful
news to tell you!"
"What?" gasped Billie, for the unexpected onslaught had literally
taken her breath away. "Goodness! you might as well kill me as scare
me to death."
"Oh, but, Billie, you won't mind when I tell you," cried Violet,
regarding her friend with dancing eyes. "The folks have decided to send
me to Three Towers Hall!" Three Towers was a boarding school some
distance from North Bend. "Laura is going too," Violet continued
breathlessly. "And of course you will--" But something in Billie's face
stopped her and she drew in her breath sharply.
"Oh, Billie," she cried, her face falling, "you're never going to tell me
you can't go!"
"I guess that's just what I am going to tell you," said Billie, her fists
clasped so tightly that the knuckles showed white. "I might have stood
some chance if it hadn't been for that old statue. Now I can't get enough
money to pay for that--much less go to Three Towers."
"Oh, that old statue!" cried Violet desperately, adding, while her face
grew longer and longer: "What fun will there be, I'd like to know, in
going to Three Towers if you can't go with us? And oh, Billie, I was
making such wonderful plans!"
Billie had to turn away to hide the tears that sprang to her eyes. For to
go to Three Towers Hall had long been the ambition of the chums, and now
it was doubly hard to see her chance snatched away by an accident that
could have been so easily avoided. If only she had not been so foolish!
Violet came over and put a loving arm about her friend.
"Never mind, honey," she said consolingly, forgetting her own
disappointment in Billie's. "We'll find some way to get to Three Towers."
Billie smiled a wry little smile and made an effort to look as if there
were still something to live for in the world.
"Laura told me that you thought your uncle might help you," said Violet,
after an interval of unhappily trying to think of some way out of their
trouble. "Neither Laura nor I will stir a step without you, that's a
sure thing."
"Why, of course you will," said Billie, stopping the swing short and
looking at her chum in amazement. "I'm sure your folks aren't going to
let you stay at home from the school they've decided on just because I
can't go with you. Although," and her voice broke a little, "it's just
wonderful of you, Vi, to feel that way. You will go, of course, and you
can write me beautiful letters about the wonderful times you are having."
"I won't do it!" cried Violet, springing to her feet. "I'm not going to
Three Towers without you, and that settles it. I don't care if I had a
thousand parents. Who's that turning the corner?" she interrupted herself
to ask. "There's something familiar about that walk."
"Why, it's Ferd Stowing," said Billie, getting to her feet for a better
view. "My, but he looks happy about something. I wonder what's up."
The next moment Ferd Stowing, one of the best-liked boys in the town,
came rushing up the steps like a whirlwind, and it did not take the girls
long to find out "what was up."
"Hooray!" he cried, flinging his hat high in the air. "Wuxtry! All about
Ferd Stowing and Ted Jordon!"
"For goodness' sake, stop bellowing and behave," Billie commanded. "What
have you and Teddy been doing now?"
"Plenty. But that's nothing to what we're going to do," crowed Ferd
exultantly. "He and I have at last persuaded our reluctant parents to
send us to the military school. You know--the one that is only a little
over a mile from Three Towers where you girls are going."
Again Billie felt as if she had been treated to a shower of ice water.
Teddy and Ferd were going to Boxton Military Academy, and Chet--her
darling, loyal Chet--would not be able to go with them. Her own
disappointment seemed nothing at all beside this new tragedy.
"I was just on my way over to your house," Billie was conscious that Ferd
was addressing her. "We haven't had a chance to get in touch with Chet
yet. But the old boy will of course go with us, won't he? It wouldn't be
any fun without Chet."
Almost the very words Violet had said to her, thought Billie, as she
tried to swallow a sob and only succeeded in turning it into a funny
little cough.
"He will, won't he?" Ferd was insisting, while Violet watched them with
troubled eyes.
"Why--why--I don't know, Ferd," Billie stammered, trying to make her
voice sound natural. "I do know one thing, and that is that Chet is crazy
to go and will if he gets half a chance."
"Then I guess it's all right," said Ferd, leaning back with a sigh of
relief. "Gee, I was afraid you were going to say he couldn't go, and so
spoil everything. Say, can't you see the good times we're going to have
with you girls at Three Towers Hall and we fellows such a little way off
that we can see each other every once in a while? I can't make up my
mind that it's real yet--" And so on and on, rapturously, while
Billie's heart sank lower and lower and Violet's own warm one ached for
her friend.
Then just as Ferd started to go he spied Chet coming up the street and
hailed him joyfully.
"Just the fellow I wanted to see," he declared fervently. "Come on up
here, old man, and hear the glad news."
Billie groaned inwardly and seemed about to speak, but Violet stopped her
with a hand on her arm.
"Might as well get it over with," she whispered. "Chet is sure to hear
of it later if he doesn't now."
So Billie waited, but her heart ached as she watched Chet march up
smilingly to hear "the glad news."
"We're going to Boxton Military Academy." Ferd fairly shouted it at him.
"How about it, old timer, are you going with us, or are you going to
leave us in the lurch?"
The glad tidings staggered Chet for a minute, but he came on quietly and
perched himself upon the railing, one foot swinging idly.
"You said you were going to the military academy?" he asked, his voice as
quiet as his manner, but Billie noticed that the smile was gone. "By that
I suppose you mean you and Teddy."
"And you," added Ferd, beaming upon him. "Billie said you were
crazy to go."
Chet looked at Billie's unhappy face and tried to smile.
"Crazy to go!" he repeated. "I'll say I am. But--"
"But me no buts, Chet, my lad," broke in the impetuous Ferd. "I didn't
ask you anything. I merely stated a fact."
"I--I'd give almost anything I own to make it a fact," said Chet, his
eyes on the ground. "But I'm very much afraid you'll have to guess
again, old man."
"Guess again? Well, I should say not!" cried Ferd, getting to his feet
indignantly. "Why, the thing can't be done without you, Chet. Didn't
Billie say--"
"Billie only said," interrupted Violet, coming to Billie's rescue, "that
Chet was crazy to go and would if he had half a chance."
Ferd sank back in his chair, too dismayed to speak.
"Well, of all--Say, old man, you've got to go," and he turned to Chet
pleadingly. "What sort of a party do you think this is going to be
anyway, with Billie at Three Towers Hall and you back here in North Bend?
It's not fair."
"Not fair," flared Billie. "You don't suppose I'd go to Three Towers and
leave Chet here, do you?"
"Then you're not going either?" cried Ferd, seeing all his castles in the
air coming down about his ears with a crash.
Billie shook her head unhappily.
"No, I'm not going either," she said.
CHAPTER VI
DEBBIE DESERTS
Billy Bradley really tried to be cheerful in the days that followed, but
try as she would she could not altogether keep out the vision of Three
Towers Hall, the boarding school to which she had wanted to go ever
since--well, almost since she had wanted anything.
Laura and Violet would go without her. They would have to go, even in
spite of their loyal determination not to. Their parents would have
something to say about that.
And Chet was in just as bad a fix, for Boxton Military Academy had been
his dream even as Three Towers Hall had been Billie's. Oh, if only they
could all go what a wonderful time they could have! Oh, well--
And Mr. and Mrs. Bradley, sensing something of all this, were very
unhappy and cast about desperately for some way to give their boy and
girl the advantages that the others would have. But money was very tight.
Mr. Bradley had all his cash tied up in several real estate transactions.
So for a little while the Bradleys were not a happy family--although
they tried bravely not to show it, even to each other.
Then one morning came a long, businesslike envelope, with a typewritten
address, that caused a stir in the family circle.
Mrs. Bradley opened it with a puzzled frown between her brows, then
uttered a startled exclamation.
"What is it, dear?" asked Mr. Bradley, while Billie and Chet crowded
closer to her chair.
"Aunt Beatrice Powerson is dead," Mrs. Bradley announced with a look more
of shocked surprise than of grief. "She died in Canada quite suddenly,
and this is from her attorney asking us," she looked across at her
husband, "to be present at the reading of the will."
"Well, well," said Mr. Bradley slowly, "poor Beatrice Powerson dead at
last. I suppose she got as much out of life as any of us, though, in her
eccentric way."
"It was strange," remarked Billie slowly, "that I should have been
speaking of Aunt Beatrice only the other day. Violet wanted to know if
she was wealthy."
"Was she, Dad?" asked Chet, with interest.
"I imagine nobody knew," his father answered. "As you know, she was
queer, and as tight as a clam when it came to talking about her personal
affairs. The only thing we're sure of is that she had plenty of money to
travel anywhere she wanted to, and that's saying something these days."
"I say, Billie," cried Chet, his eyes shining with the thought--dear,
unselfish Chet, his first hope even then was more for Billie than
himself, "you are Aunt Beatrice's namesake, you know. Maybe she left you
something in her will."
"Chet," his mother chided gently, "don't you think it is rather heartless
to be counting on what Aunt Beatrice has left when we have just heard of
her death?"
"I suppose so," said Chet, rather abashed. "But then you know we only saw
her about once in every three years, and then she wasn't very friendly."
"Are you really going, Mother, you and Dad?" asked Billie, for it seemed
impossible to her that her father and mother should go off on such a long
journey and leave her and Chet behind. "Are you?" she asked again
anxiously.
"Yes, I suppose we must," said Mrs. Bradley, looking across at her
husband, who answered her with a smile.
"I don't see what else we can do," he replied, as he looked at his young
daughter. "You can keep house while we're gone, Billie, just to see how
you like it."
"Me keep house!" cried Billie, dismayed. "Why, I don't know the first
thing about it!"
"That's the best way to learn," returned her father, while Mrs. Bradley
began to smile. "Experience is the very best teacher, you know."
"That's all right, but you don't seem to realize that she will be
learning at my expense," groaned Chet, adding as a horrible thought
struck him: "Billie won't have to cook anything, will she?"
"Of course not," laughed Mrs. Bradley, and Chet sighed with relief.
"Debbie will be here as usual to do the cooking. And, of course," she
added to Billie, putting an arm about her and drawing her close, "Debbie
will help you with anything you want to know. We probably won't be gone
more than a week, anyway."