The Outdoor Girls of Deepdale - Laura Lee Hope
And now we come to Amy Stonington. Poor Amy! There was something of a
mystery about her. She realized something of it herself when she was old
enough to know that she was not in physical characteristics at all like
her parents--at least she regarded Mr. and Mrs. John Stonington as her
parents. And yet she could not understand why she was not more like them
in type, nor why, of late, she had often come upon them talking earnestly
together, which talk ceased as soon as she entered the room. In
consequence of which Amy was not very happy these days.
Yet the most that she feared was that her parents were mapping out a
career for her. She was talented in music, playing the piano with a
technique and fire that few girls of her age could equal. More than once,
after a simple concert in the High School, at which she played, teachers
had urged Mr. and Mrs. Stonington to send her to some well-known teacher,
or even abroad to study.
"But if that's what they're planning I just won't go!" said Amy to
herself, after one of those queer confidences she had broken up. "I'd die
of loneliness if they sent me away."
So much for our four girls.
Dear Deepdale the girls always called it--Dear Deepdale! They always
spoke affectionately of their home town, the only residence place any of
them had ever really known, for though some of them had lived as children
in other places, their years, since they were old enough to appreciate
localities, had been spent in Deepdale.
And certainly it was a town of much natural beauty, to which a certain
amount of civic pride added, had made for local enjoyment in parks,
memorials and statues. Though there were only about fifteen thousand
residents, there was a spirit about Deepdale that many a fair-sized city
might have envied--a spirit of progress.
Deepdale was situated on the Argono river, which gave a natural
advantage, and provided a setting that could not be improved upon. The
stream ran around two sides of the place, the waters curling gracefully
around a bend which had been laid out in a little pleasure park.
There were some who protested against this "waste" of good and valuable
dockage facilities, but the town committeemen, wisely ignoring
objections, had, at some cost, acquired the land, and made what was one
of the prettiest spots for miles around--a little breathing place on the
very edge of the beautiful river.
Nor was the river the only attractive bit of water about Deepdale. The
stream emptied into Rainbow Lake, some miles below the town, and Rainbow
Lake fully justified its name. It was a favorite scene of canoeing and
motor-boat parties, and many summer residences dotted its shores. In
summer white tents of campers gleamed beneath the trees on its banks.
Situated in the lake were a number of islands, also camping sites, and
much frequented, in summer, by little parties of young people who
landed there after a trip on the lake, to rest in the shade of the leafy
trees. Triangle Island, so called from its shore outline, was the
largest of those that seemed floating on the lake, like green jewels in
a setting of silver.
Several steamers of good size plied on the Argono river, one a freight
and passenger boat, belonging to a local line going as far as Clammerport
at the foot of the lake. Often school society excursions were held, and
the boys and girls made merry on the trip.
About Deepdale were several thriving farming communities, for the
slightly rolling land was well suited to cultivation. The town, and the
outlying farms filled a sort of valley, girt around with hills of
sufficient size and height to be called mountains, at least by the local
inhabitants who were proud of them.
There were valleys in these mountains, some large and others merely
glens, though Shadow valley, one of the most beautiful, was only of
medium size. It was a favorite spot for excursionists who wanted a change
from the water route, there being a sort of summer resort and picnic
ground at one end of this valley.
The other end was not so often visited. It had once formed the estate of
a very wealthy man, who built a large mansion there. But, on his death,
the property was contested for in the courts by several heirs and for
years had been tied up by litigation. So the mansion became deserted.
Of sufficient importance to have a railroad, as well as a steamer line,
Deepdale was well provided with transportation facilities.
True, the railway was only a branch one, but it connected with the main
road running to New York, and this was enough for the people of Deepdale.
The town also boasted of a paper, the _Weekly Banner_, and there was a
good high and grammar school in town, besides numerous stores, and other
establishments, including a moving picture theatre--this last rather an
innovation.
Our girls--I call them ours, for it is with their fortunes that we shall
be chiefly concerned--our girls lived near each other on the outskirts
of the town.
Betty and her parents occupied an old-fashioned stone house, that had
once been the manor of a farm. But it was old-fashioned outwardly only,
for within it was the embodiment of culture and comfort. It set well back
from the street, and a lane of elms led from the front porch to the
thoroughfare. Back of the house was an old-fashioned garden, likewise
well-shaded, and there were the remains of an apple orchard, some of the
trees still bearing fruit.
On the other side of the street, and not far off, was the home of
Grace--a modern brick house of tasteful design. It had ample grounds
about it, though being rather new could not boast of such noble trees as
those that added dignity to the old stone house.
Amy Stonington lived in a large, rambling wooden structure, too large for
the needs of the family, but artistic nevertheless. It was just around
the corner from the residence of Betty, and the yards of the two girls
joined---if you can call the big orchard of Betty's home a "yard."
Mollie's home was near the river, about ten minutes' walk from that of
the other three girls. It was a wooden house of a dull red that mingled
well in tone with the green grass and the spreading trees that
surrounded it.
And now I believe I have mentioned my principal characters, and places,
though others will be introduced to you from time to time as our story
progresses.
So on this pleasant spring day, for one of the few times, Amy was not
brooding on the subject that had given her such uneasiness of late.
Nor were the other girls concerned with anything save the finding of
the five hundred dollar bill, which absorbed everything else for the
time being.
"Who could have lost it?" wondered Mollie.
"There aren't so many persons in Deepdale who can afford to throw away
money like this," added Amy.
"It wasn't thrown away--it was lost," declared Betty, "and we must find
the owner if we can."
"Especially after such a pathetic message," said Grace. "Poor fellow! His
last big bill!"
"What makes you think it was a _man_?" asked Amy.
"That isn't a girl's writing," insisted Grace.
"Fine! You'll be a detective if you keep on--or should I say
detectivess?" asked Mollie, with a laugh.
"I wonder what that note means?" inquired Mollie.
"Why," said Betty, "it seems to indicate that some young man ran
through a fortune--or lost it--and had only five hundred dollars left.
He was going to try to redeem his standing or wealth with this, and
probably wrote this to remind himself not to fail. I used to have a
habit of leaving my room untidy, and Daddy suggested once that I write
a notice to myself, and pin it where I would see it as I came out each
morning. I did, and I cured myself. This young fellow probably tried
the same system."
"What makes you think he is _young_?" Grace wanted to know.
"I'm following your line of reasoning--no elderly man would do
anything like this--write such a strange memorandum to himself. I'm
sure he is young."
"And--good-looking?" asked Amy, smiling.
"Let us hope so--if we are to return the money to him in person,"
suggested Mollie.
"Well, the best thing to do is to put that in some secure place, Betty,"
advised Grace. "Has your father a safe at home?"
"Yes."
"Then let him keep it, and we can put an advertisement in the _Banner_.
'Found--a sum of money. Owner can have same by proving property, and
paying for this advertisement.' How is that?"
"Wouldn't you ask for a reward?" came from Mollie.
"The idea--of course not!"
"But he might _give_ us one," suggested Amy, "without being asked."
Then talking excitedly about the find, and speculating on how it could
have come in the road, the girls accompanied Betty to her house. Mrs.
Nelson was duly astonished at the news, and agreed with the chums that
the best plan was that suggested by Grace. Accordingly, when Mr. Nelson
came home, the bill and the queer attached note, were put in his safe.
Then an advertisement was telephoned to the paper.
"And now let's talk about our Camping and Tramping Club," proposed Betty,
for her three chums had called that evening after supper.
"I spoke to mamma about it," said Mollie, "and she said she thought I
could go. But we must stay with friends, or relatives, at night; she
won't let me put up at a hotel."
"Of course not!" cried Betty--"none of us will. Now my plan is this:
Papa and mamma have a number of relatives living in distant towns, but
all in this vicinity. Probably you girls have some also. Now, why
couldn't we arrange a tour that would take us on a circuit say of--two
hundred miles--"
"Two hundred miles!" came in a horrified chorus.
"Why, yes, that's not much. We can take three weeks to it, and that's
only a little over ten miles a day--not counting Sundays, of course. If
we can't walk ten miles a day--"
"Oh, that's not so bad," admitted Amy.
"I can easily do that," assented Mollie.
"What about our meals?" asked Grace.
"Can't you carry enough chocolate fudge to do between morning and
evening?" asked Amy, with a laugh.
"I've got that part all planned," began Betty. "Or at least I have an
idea about it. We can get breakfast and supper at our friends' or
relatives' and at noon we can go to restaurants, or to houses along the
way. Why, we can even take a little camping outfit with us, and make
coffee on the road, carrying sandwiches, too."
"Fine!" cried Amy and Mollie.
"Make chocolate--not coffee," begged Grace.
"Well, chocolate then," assented Betty.
"I have a couple of aunts somewhere out Bessingford way," spoke Amy.
"And mamma has a cousin or two near Millford," went on Grace.
"Now, it's your turn, Mollie," said Betty.
"Oh, I have some wood-pile relations scattered about the country!"
exclaimed the French girl, her eyes sparkling. "I guess they would be
glad to entertain us."
"And I can fill in the between-spaces with uncles and aunts and cousins,
I think," spoke Betty. "Now let's make out a partial list."
It took some little time to do this, but it was finally accomplished.
"Well, shall we decide on it?" asked Betty after a pause. "Shall we form
the Deepdale Camping and Tramping Club?"
"I move you, Miss Chairman, that we do!" exclaimed Grace. "The sooner
the better."
"Second the motion!" came laughingly from Mollie.
"All in favor--"
"Aye!" came in a joyous chorus, and the little club was thus
quickly formed.
CHAPTER III
JEALOUSIES
"What do they find to talk about so often?"
"And so secretly. As soon as any of us other girls come near they begin
to speak of the weather--or something like that."
Thus remarked Alice Jallow to Kittie Rossmore a few days after the
formation of the Camping and Tramping Club. The question and comments
took place in the court of the High School, just before the bell was to
ring for the morning session.
"It's all Betty Nelson's doings," declared Alice, who had often tried to
make herself more intimate with the quartette of friends, but
unsuccessfully. The other girls did not care for these two.
"Yes. Grace, Mollie and Amy will do anything Betty tells them,"
asserted Kittie.
"I don't see why she is so popular. She hasn't a bit of style about her."
"I should say not! Her skirt is entirely too wide, and her blouse never
seems cut right."
"They say her mother doesn't believe in style. But I do," said Alice.
"I'd rather have a cheap dress, if it was in style, than something
old-fashioned, even if it cost a lot more."
"So would I. Look at them now, with their heads together! I wonder if
they're going to have a dance?"
"I don't know. How can we find out?"
"Leave it to me. Jennie Plum is quite friendly with Mollie. I'll get her
to ask some questions."
"Do; and then tell me. I'm sure they're getting up some affair."
"I shouldn't wonder. If they'd only ask us--"
"We have a right to be asked!" and Alice flared up.
The warning bell interrupted further conversation, and the girls and boys
filed into their classrooms.
As Alice had remarked, there was a good deal of talk going on among the
four members of the newly-formed Camping and Tramping Club. Every spare
moment the four seemed to have something to say to each other, as one or
the other thought of some new point to consider.
Following the hasty formation of the organization, the girls had sent
letters to their friends and relatives asking if it would be convenient
to entertain them. Some favorable answers had been received, others were
delayed. There were no refusals.
"As soon as we know on whom we can depend, we can make up a schedule--'an
itinerary'"--Betty had said. "We will know just where we will stop each
night, so the folks can send us word, if they have to," she added.
"Why should they have to, unless something happens?" asked Amy.
"Oh, that five hundred dollar bill might be claimed," said Betty. "We'd
want to know about that."
"And you haven't heard a word yet?" asked Grace.
"Not a word! I telephoned to the paper, and they said no replies had come
in there. If that young man is depending on this money to make his
fortune, I'm afraid he'll be broken instead of made, to use his own
expression," and Betty sighed.
The warning bell had broken in on their talk, as it had on that of the
rival girls. And then began the school day.
It was warm--very warm for that time of year, being early May, and as the
members of the new Camping and Tramping Club looked from the open
windows, out to where Spring was already forcing into bloom the flowers,
and urging the trees to greater activity, as regards the tender green
leaves, there came an almost overpowering desire to toss aside books and
papers, and get out where the smell of the brown earth mingled with the
perfume of growing vegetation.
The teachers, doubtless, found it difficult also, for the call of nature
manifested itself to them, and the girls and boys, rather selfishly, did
not make it as easy as they might.
The noon recess again brought the four friends together, and Betty
showed a tentative program she had surreptitiously scribbled during a
study period.
It contained the names of towns, with the available relatives of the
girls set down opposite each one, and a rough calculation of the time
required to walk from one place to the other.
"It seems as if we ought to start at once," exclaimed Mollie. "Aren't you
just dying to go, Amy?"
"I am--yes." There was hesitation in the tones.
"Why, what is the matter?" asked Grace, quickly. "Are you ill, Amy?" for
the girl looked pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes.
"No, I'm all right. But papa and mamma don't seem to want me to go--at
least they say they rather I would not just at present."
"The idea!"
"After we have it almost all arranged!"
"Why not?"
These comments and the question were fairly shot at Amy.
"I--I don't know," she faltered. "At first they did not seem to mind--but
last night--oh, I dare say it will, be all right, girls. Don't mind me,"
and Amy tried to smile, though it could easily be seen that it cost her
an effort.
She did not want to tell that she had overheard her parents discussing
something the night before that troubled her--a topic that had been
hushed when she unexpectedly came into the room. And that it had to do
with the proposed little trip Amy was sure. Yet Mr. and Mrs. Stonington
had at first shown much interest in it, and had written to various
relatives asking them to entertain the girls.
"Stuck up things!" murmured Alice Jallow, toward the close of the noon
recess, when the four chums had kept to one corner of the school court,
eating their lunches, and never joining in the activities, or talk, of
the other pupils.
"I wonder what they can be planning?" murmured Alice. "If they're
getting up a new society, we'll do the same, and we won't ask them to
join."
"Indeed we won't," agreed her chum. "That Betty Nelson thinks she can
run the school. I'll show her that she can't!"
"And if they knew what I know about Amy Stonington I don't believe they'd
be so thick with her."
"What do you mean?"
"It's a secret."
"Oh, tell me, Alice," pleaded Kittie. "You know I won't ever
tell--honest!"
"Promise?"
"Promise!"
"Well then--oh, come over here. There's that horrid Sadie Jones trying to
hear what we're saying," and the two girls, arm in arm, strolled off to a
distant part of the court.
The afternoon session wore on. The day grew warmer, the sky became
overcast, and there was the dull muttering of distant thunder. There
seemed a tension in the air--as if something was going to snap. Doubtless
you have often felt it--a sensation as though pins and needles were
pricking you all over. As though you wanted to scream--to cry
out--against an uncertain sensation that gripped you.
In the various classrooms the droning voices were heard--of the
pupils in recitations, or of the teachers as they patiently explained
some point.
The thunder rumbled nearer and nearer. Now and then a vivid flash of
lightning split the sombre clouds. At such times the nervous girls would
jump in their seats, and there would follow hysterical, though quickly
subdued, bursts of laughter from their more stolid mates, or the boys.
The four who were to go on the walking tour together were in the Latin
class. Amy was standing up, translating--or trying to translate--a
passage from Caesar. She halted and stammered, though usually she got
perfect marks in this study.
"Take it a bit slower, Miss Stonington," suggested Miss Greene, the
teacher. "That is very good. You should know that word--_nequaquam_--take
your time."
"_Nequaquam"_ said Amy faintly, "not ever--"
There was a titter from Alice Jallow, in which Kittie Rossmore joined.
Poor Amy looked distressed. Tears came into her eyes.
There shot across the black heavens a vivid flash of lightning, and a
bursting crash so promptly came echoing that nearly every one of the
girls started from her desk, and a number screamed, while even the boys
were startled.
Then, with a low moan, Amy swayed, and fell backward into the arms of
Betty.
"She's fainted!" exclaimed Miss Greene. "Girls, keep quiet! Some one get
me a glass of water!"
There was a stir among the boys who occupied one side of the big room,
and Frank Haley hastened out.
CHAPTER IV
A TAUNT
With a great crash, a deluge of rain, a wind that swept the spray across
the school room, and the rumbling of thunder, punctuated by vivid,
hissing flashes of lightning, the storm broke. At once the tension--that
of nature as well as that of the nerves of the girls--was relieved. A
sound, like a great sigh, was heard in the room. There were one or two
faint cries, some laughter, and the members of the class were themselves
again. The balance had been restored.
"She will be all right presently," said Miss Greene, quietly, as she
helped place Amy on a couch in her own private room. "Close some of the
windows, girls, the rain is coming in."
Her firm and cheering words, and her calm manner, aided in the work of
restoration that had begun when the nerve-tension was lessened. The girls
were themselves again, most of them going quietly to their seats, while
Betty and Grace helped Miss Greene restore Amy to consciousness. They
had loosed her collar, and some ammonia had been procured from the
physics laboratory by Frank, who also brought water.
"I can't imagine what made her faint," whispered Grace. "She never did
such a thing before."
"Probably it was the storm," said the teacher. "I have often noticed that
just before a severe electrical disturbance I felt 'like flying to
pieces,' to put it crudely. Then when the rain came I would get calm
again. I remarked that Amy did not seem quite herself while reciting, and
perhaps I should have excused her, but I hoped, by letting her fix her
attention on the lesson, that the little spell might pass over."
"It was that horrid Alice Jallow giggling at her!" declared Mollie, who
had come softly into the room. "I could--" she clenched her hands, and
her dark eyes gleamed.
"Mollie," said Betty softly, and the threatened fit of anger passed over.
"She will come to in a moment," remarked Miss Greene, as she saw Amy's
eyelids fluttering. "It was just a nervous strain. I have seen it
happen before."
"Not with Amy," declared Grace, positively.
"No; but in other girls."
"I do hope Amy isn't going to be ill," said Betty. "We want her to come
on the walk with us."
"I have heard of your little club," said the teacher, with a smile. "The
idea is a very good one; I hope you have a pleasant time. I think it will
do all of you good. I wish more of my girls would take up systematic
walking. We would have better recitations, I think."
"Poor Amy!" murmured Grace. "I wonder what could have caused it?" and she
looked down at her pale, little chum.
"It was because Alice laughed at her!" declared Mollie, half fiercely.
"I think not," spoke Betty, softly. "Amy has not been quite herself of
late. She--"
But she was not destined to finish that sentence, for the girl under
discussion opened her eyes, and struggled to sit up.
"You're all right," said Miss Greene, softly. "Lie still, my dear."
"Where am I--what happened? Oh, I remember. Did I faint?" and she asked
the question in some alarm.
"You did, my dear; but there was no harm in that," spoke Miss Greene
softly, and she laughed in a low voice.
"I--I never did such a thing before. What made me?"
"The storm, Amy. It was the electrical disturbance, I think. My! how
it rains!"
A perfect deluge was descending, but it had brought a calm to the waiting
earth, and calm to tired girlish nerves as well. Amy sighed, and then sat
up. The color came back into her pale face.
"I am all right now," she said, more firmly, and was soon able to walk.
"Stay here a little longer," urged Miss Greene, "Betty, Mollie and Grace
may remain with you. I will go out to the other pupils. Some of them may
be alarmed."
A crash of thunder almost smothered her words, and the girls started
nervously. The three glanced apprehensively at Amy, but she smiled
bravely and said:
"Don't worry about me. I'm all right. It was silly of me to go off
that way."
The storm raged and tore about the school, and gradually spent its fury.
Miss Greene gave up the attempt to have a Latin recitation, and the class
was permitted to engage in general conversation.
It was the final period of the day, and soon school was over. Most of the
girls remained, however, for few had brought rain coats or umbrellas,
there being no hint that morning of the deluge that was to come. Then
the rain gradually slackened, and the pupils departed.
"Don't come to school to-morrow, if you don't feel well," urged Miss
Greene, as Amy and her chums left.
"Oh, I'll be all right," she brightly answered.
"I wish we were going to start on our tramp to-morrow!" exclaimed Betty
as they walked along the damp country road toward their homes, the sweet
smell of the newly-watered earth mingling with the scent of grass and
flowers. "The country is just lovely now."
"It will still be as lovely next month," said Mollie. "Only two weeks
more of school, and then we will be on our way."
"Do you feel all right, Amy?" asked Grace. "Have a--"
"No, she won't have a _chocolate_, if that's what you're going to say!"
spoke Mollie, quickly. "Do you want to make her get worse?"
"I wasn't going to say chocolate--so there!" snapped the usually
gentle-mannered Grace. "Don't be so quick, Billy."
"Oh, I beg your pardon," and the French girl showed her contrition. "I
forgot you can think of something beside candy."
"I was going to ask her if she wanted my smelling salts," Grace went on,
and Amy accepted the little bottle.
There was much talk that afternoon of the coming trip. Some further
letters had been received from relatives who would welcome the girls at
the various stopping places.
"This about completes our schedule," remarked Betty, as she noted down,
on a map she had drawn, the names of some persons and places. "Everything
is coming on fine, girls."
"Isn't it nice!" exclaimed Mollie.
"You're sure to come; aren't you, Amy?" asked Grace.
"Yes, of course--that is--" A shadow seemed to pass over her face, and
then her pale cheeks became pink. "Oh, I guess you can count on me," she
finally declared. "I was just thinking--oh, it doesn't matter. Let's see
now, Betty, how many stopping places do you count on?"