The Outdoor Girls of Deepdale - Laura Lee Hope
"About eight. Of course there may be more, and we may have to stay in one
place longer than I figure on, and we might skip some places altogether."
"What about the camp?" asked Mollie.
"I am arranging for that," spoke Grace. "Papa's half-brother lives in
Cameron. He and his wife maintain a sort of camp there for those who
love the woods and outdoors. Mamma has written, and arrangements will be
made for us to have a cabin or bungalow there for a few days."
"Won't it be glorious!" cried Mollie, taking Amy in a waltzing hold and
whirling about the room with her, while she hummed a dreamy song.
They were at Betty's house discussing their coming trip, and it was
nearly supper time when they dispersed. Grace insisted on accompanying
Amy part of the way home.
"I don't want you to faint again and be all by yourself," she said.
"Silly! I shall do nothing of the sort," declared Amy, but Grace
had her way.
It was the next afternoon, when Betty and Grace were having a game of
tennis on the court that had been laid out back of the High School, that
Alice Jallow and Kittie Rossmore came past, arm in arm. They paused for a
moment to watch the game, and during a lull Alice remarked:
"When does the tramping club start?"
"As soon as school closes," replied Betty, for the term ended unusually
early that year.
"Have you the party all made up?" inquired Kittie, and it was evident
that she had a reason for asking.
"Pretty much," answered Betty, wondering what was to follow. "It's your
serve," she added to Grace.
"Alice and I are very fond of walking," proceeded Kittie. "We thought if
the Camping and Tramping Club was to be a general one--that is, if you
wanted more members--we'd like to join."
Betty caught her breath. It was a hard answer to give.
"I'm awfully sorry," she said softly, coming over to where Alice and
Kittie stood. "If we had known before we might have arranged it. But our
membership is limited to four now."
"You four, I presume," and there was almost a sneer in the voice of Alice
as she looked at the four chums.
"Yes, it so happens. You see we are going to stop each night at the
houses of friends or relatives, and of course--"
"I see--the accommodations are limited; are they?" and again that sneer
was manifest.
"Yes, they are, I'm sorry to say," spoke Betty. "But why don't you girls
form another club? You could easily do that, and we could be together all
day, if not at night. Why don't you?" she asked, brightly.
"We might," said Alice, cooly. "Come on, Kittie," she added. "I guess
we're not wanted here."
"The idea!" cried Mollie. "Betty, I've a good notion to--"
"Hush!" cautioned Betty, placing a hand on the arm of her impetuous chum.
"Don't say anything. It will only make matters worse. They are trying to
provoke us."
Kittie and Alice walked off, their arms about each other's waist,
laughing heartily at something in which they seemed to find a good joke.
"Let us finish the game," suggested Betty quietly to Grace, and they did.
"I don't see how they could be so bold as to ask us," murmured Mollie.
It was one afternoon, a few days before the close of school for the term,
which also would mark the start of the outdoor girls on their tramping
tour that, as she was packing her books to leave her desk for the day,
Betty saw a note fall out of her Latin grammar.
"That's strange," she murmured, half aloud, "I wonder who could have put
that there? Who is it from, I wonder?"
"As if you didn't know!" laughed Amy, coming up behind her friend. They
were alone in the classroom for the moment.
"Why, what do you mean?" asked Betty blushing slightly.
"I think I saw Will give Grace a note this noon," went on Amy. "Ah,
secrets! And doesn't it happen that Will and Allen Washburn are quite
chummy? If the initials A.W. aren't on that note, Betty--"
"Of course they're not! The idea! Allen Washburn needn't think--"
"Oh, I know he needn't send notes to you this way, but perhaps Will
forgot to deliver it, and Grace just slipped it into your book, intending
to tell you of it. Ah, Betty!"
"Silly. It isn't that at all. See, I'll let you read the note."
Hastily Betty unfolded it. There was but a single unsigned sheet of
paper, and scrawled on it were these words:
"Before you go camping and tramping ask Amy Stonington who her father and
mother are."
CHAPTER V
AMY'S MYSTERY
Betty was quick to comprehend the cruel words, and in an instant she had
crumpled the anonymous scrawl in her hand. But she was the fraction of a
second too late. Amy had read it.
Betty heard the sound of Amy's sigh, and then the catch in her breath.
She turned quickly.
"Amy!" cried Betty. "Did you see it? Oh, my dear! The meanness of it! The
awful meanness! Oh, Amy, my dear!" and she put her arms around her
trembling companion. "Oh, if I only knew who sent it!"
"I--I can guess!" faltered Amy.
"Who?"
"Alice Jallow."
"The--the cat!"
Betty simply could not help saying it.
"Let--let me see it again," whispered Amy. "I didn't mean to read your
note, Betty, but I saw it before I realized it."
"My note? It isn't mine! I wouldn't own to receiving such a scrawl! Oh,
Amy, I'm so sorry!"
"Never mind, Betty. I--I've been expecting it."
"You have?"
"Yes. That--that is what has been bothering me of late. You may have
noticed--"
"I've noticed that you haven't quite been yourself, Amy, my dear, but I
never suspected--and you think Alice sent this?"
"I'm almost sure of it. It has to be known sooner or later. But don't say
anything to Alice."
"Why not? The idea! She ought to be exposed--and punished. I'll go to--"
"No, please don't, Betty. It--it is true, and--and there is no use
giving her the satisfaction of knowing that she has--has hurt me,"
faltered Amy.
"Oh, the meanness of it!" murmured Betty. "But, Amy dear, I don't
understand. This doesn't at all look like the writing of Alice Jallow."
"I know; she has disguised her scribbling, that's all. But it doesn't
matter. I'll never charge her with it."
"Why not?"
"I haven't the heart. Oh, Betty, I'm afraid it's only too true! I really
don't know who my father and mother are!"
"Amy!"
"No, I don't. I've suspected a mystery a long while, and now I am sure I
am mixed up in one."
"Amy Stonington!" cried Betty. "Do you mean to tell me--look here, let's
get to some quiet place. Some one will be coming in here. We can go to
Miss Greene's room. She has gone for the day. But perhaps you don't want
to tell me, Amy."
"Oh, yes I do. I want to tell all you girls. And then maybe--"
"Amy Stonington!" exclaimed Betty. "If you're going to hint--and I see
that you are--that we'd pay any attention to this note, or let it make
any difference between us--even if it's true--which I don't
believe--let's see--what do I want to say--I'm all confused. Oh, I know.
I mean that it shan't make a particle of difference to us--if you never
had a father or mother--"
"Oh, of course I had--some time," and Amy smiled through a mist of tears.
"Only there's a mystery about them--what became of them."
"Why I thought--all of us thought--that Mr. and Mrs. Stonington were your
parents," said the wondering Betty.
"So did I, until lately. Then I began to notice that papa and mamma--as I
thought them--were frequently consulting together. They always stopped
talking when I came near, but I supposed it might be about some plans
they had for sending me away to be educated in music. So I pretended not
to notice. Though I did not want to go away from dear Deepdale.
"Their queer consultations increased, and they looked at me so strangely
that finally I went to mamma--no, my aunt, as I must call her, and--"
"Your aunt!" exclaimed Betty.
"Yes, that is what Mrs. Stonington is to me; or, rather she was poor dear
mamma's aunt. I am going to call her aunt, however, and Mr. Stonington
uncle. They wish it."
"Oh, then they have told you?"
"Yes. It was the night before the day that I fainted in school. It was
thinking of that, I guess, that unnerved me."
"Why, Amy! A mystery about you?"
"Yes, and one I fear will never be found out. I'll tell you about it."
"Not unless you'd rather, dear," and Betty put her arms about her chum as
they sat on the worn sofa in Miss Greene's retiring room.
"I had much rather. I want you and Grace and Mollie to know. Maybe--maybe
you can help me," she finished with a bright smile.
"You see it was this way. Of course I don't remember anything about it.
All my recollections are centered in Deepdale, and about Mr. and Mrs.
Stonington. It is the only home I have ever really known, though I have a
dim recollection of having, as a child, been in some other place. But
that is like a dream.
"But it seems that when I was a very little girl both my parents lived
in a distant city. Then one day there was a terrible storm, the river
rose, and there was a flood. This I was told by my uncle and aunt, as I
am going to call them. Who my father and mother were I never knew,
except from what I have heard, but it seems that Mrs. Stonington was
mamma's aunt.
"In the flood our house was washed away, but I, then a small baby, was
found floating on a sort of raft tied to a mattress on a bed. I was taken
to a farm house, and found pinned to my dress was an envelope."
"Just an envelope?"
"Yes. There might have been a letter in it, but if there was it had been
washed out in the flood and rain. But the envelope was addressed to Mrs.
Stonington here, and she was telegraphed to. Her husband hurried on, for
he knew of the flood and feared for his wife's relatives who lived in
that town. He took me back with him, and I have lived with Uncle John
and Aunt Sarah ever since."
"But your father and mother, Amy?"
"No one ever knew what became of them. They--they were never found,
though a careful search was made. I was the only one left."
"And was there nothing to tell of your past life?"
"There wasn't much to tell, you see--I was so small. There was a sort
of diary in the bed with me, but it only gave details of my baby
days--probably it was written by my mother--for the handwriting is
that of a woman. Aunt Sarah gave it to me the other day. I shall
always treasure it."
"And is that all?"
"Well, there was a mention of something--in a vague sort of way--that I
was to inherit when I grew up. Whether it was land or money no one can
tell. The reference is so veiled. Even Uncle John, and he is a stock and
bond broker, you know, says he is puzzled. He has had a search made in
Rockford--that's where the flood was--but it came to nothing. And so
that is all I know of my past."
"But your aunt must know something of your mother if they were
relatives."
"Very little. They saw each other hardly at all, and not for some years
before my mother's marriage, Aunt Sarah says. How my parents came to pin
the Stoningtons' address on my baby dress they can only guess. And I'll
never know. Probably they did it before they were--were drowned."
"Then your name isn't Stonington after all, Amy?"
"Oh, yet it is. The queer part of it is that my mother is said to have
married a man of the same name as Uncle John, but no relative, as far as
we can learn. So I'm Amy Stonington just the same. My uncle and aunt
formally adopted me after they found that there was no hope of locating
my parents. And so I've lived in ignorance of the mystery about me until
just the other day."
"And then they told you?"
"Yes. It was discussing the advisability of this that caused Uncle John
and Aunt Sarah to confer so often. Then they decided that I was getting
old enough to be told. They said they would rather it would come to me
from themselves than from strangers."
"Oh, then others know of it?"
"Yes, a few persons in town, but they were good enough to keep it quiet
for my sake. Among them, so Uncle John told me, were Alice Jallow's
people. That is why I think she wrote the note. She must have found out
about my secret in some way, and thought to taunt me with it."
"The mean creature!"
"Oh, I don't mind. I was only afraid you girls--"
"Amy Stonington! If you even hint at such a thing again we'll never
forgive you! As if we cared! Why, I think it's perfectly wonderful to
have such a romance about you. I know the other girls will be crazy about
it. Of course, it's sad, too, dear. But maybe some day, you'll find out
that your father and mother aren't--aren't gone--at all, and you'll have
them again."
"That's what I've been hoping since I knew. But there is very little
chance, after all these years. Uncle John told me not to hope. You see,
they must have been drowned. The worst is that I can't recall them. They
never corresponded with aunt and uncle in years. I don't know what sort
of a home I had--or--or whether I had brothers or sisters."
"No, I suppose there isn't much chance of your parents having escaped the
flood. And yet I've read--in books--"
"Oh, yes--in books. But this is real life, Betty. And now, dear, I've
told you all I know. As I said, it shocked me when I first heard it, but
I'm pretty well over it now. Only it did startle me when I read that note
over your shoulder."
"I should think it would. When I see Alice--"
"Please don't say anything to her!" pleaded Amy. "Please don't! Let her
see that--that it hasn't made a bit of difference."
"I will. A difference? Why, we'll love you all the more Amy,--if that's
possible."
"That's good of you. Now shall we--"
"Hark, some one is coming!" exclaimed Betty, tiptoeing to the door, while
Amy shrank back on the sofa.
CHAPTER VI
THE LEAKY BOAT
There was a moment of silence, and then the relieved voice of Betty was
heard to say:
"Oh, it's Grace. I'm so glad. I thought--"
"What are you doing here?" asked the newcomer. It was evident from her
rather mumbled words--which mumbling I have been unable to reproduce in
cold type--that Grace was eating candy.
"Have some chocolate?" she went on, holding out a bag.
"Oh, Grace! Chocolate at such a time as this!" rebuked Betty, her mind
filled with the story she had just heard.
"Why, what's the matter with the time?"
"Amy is in there," and she motioned to the private room.
"Gracious! Has she fainted again?"
"No; where is Mollie?"
"Coming. There she is. We were looking everywhere for you. Alice
Jallow said--"
"The horrid thing!" burst out Betty. "Why, whatever can have happened?
You look quite tragic!"
"I am. Come in here!"
Grace advanced, and not even the prospect of hearing what she guessed was
going to be some sort of a strange secret could stop her from taking
another helping of candy. Betty saw and murmured:
"You are hopeless."
"What's up?" asked Mollie, gliding into the room, her dark hair straying
rather rebelliously from beneath her hat.
"Come in," invited Betty, and soon the four were sitting together, while
in a sort of dialogue Betty and Amy told the pathetic little story.
"And that's how it stands," finished Betty. "I wanted to do something--or
say something--to make Alice Jallow feel--"
"She should be punished--we should all cut her--she ought to be put out
of school!" burst out the impulsive Mollie. "I shall go to Miss Greene--"
"You'll do nothing of the sort, Billy!" exclaimed Betty, as she detained
the girl, who had already started from the room. "Amy doesn't wish it.
Besides, I think Alice will be sorry enough later for what she has done."
"I had rather you wouldn't go to her," spoke Amy, quietly.
"Oh, well, of course--" began Mollie. "I do wish I had better control of
myself," she added, rather sadly. "I start to do such rash things--"
"Indeed you do, my dear," spoke Grace. "But we know you don't mean it.
Here--help yourself," and she extended the candy bag.
"I couldn't--I don't feel like it. I--I feel all choked up in here!"
exclaimed Mollie, placing her hand on her firm, white throat. "I--I want
to do something to--to that--cat!" Her eyes filled with tears.
"That's what I called her!" said Betty. "But we mustn't let her know that
she has annoyed us. Sometimes I feel real sorry for Alice. She seems
rather lonesome."
"I suppose the story will be all over school soon," went on Grace.
"I shan't mind," spoke Amy, softly.
"Well, I'm glad you don't, my dear," remarked Betty. "It's more romantic
than anything else--after you get over the sad part of it."
"And I am trying to do that," said Amy, bravely.
Together the four girls came out of the school. Most of the other pupils
had gone home, for vacation days were near, and study hours were
shortened on account of examinations.
"There she is now," said Mollie, as they turned a corner.
"Who?" questioned Betty.
"That Jallow girl and her familiar--Kittie. Her name is too good for
her."
"Don't notice her," suggested Betty, "and don't, for goodness sake, speak
to them. We don't want a scene. Perhaps Alice only did it
impulsively--and did not really mean it."
If the reputed author of the anonymous letter, and her close friend,
hoped for any demonstration on the part of those they had hoped to wound,
they were disappointed.
In calm unconsciousness of the twain, the quartette passed on,
talking gaily--though it was a bit forced--of their coming trip. And
I must do Alice the justice to say that later she was truly sorry for
what she had done.
"There's Will!" exclaimed Grace, as she caught sight of her brother. "And
Frank Haley is with him. Here, girls, take what's left of these
chocolates, or Will won't leave one."
"Does he know you have them?" asked Amy, accepting a few.
"Yes, he saw me buying them. Oh, bother! There comes that Percy
Falconer, and he has a new suit. Vanity of vanities!"
The course of Will and his chum, as well as that of the "faultless
dresser," as he hoped he appeared, brought them toward the girls. There
was no escape, and the little throng walked onward. Betty kept close to
Amy, for she knew just how she must feel after the disclosure.
"Ah, good afternoon, ladies!" greeted Percy. "Wonderful weather we're
having. My word!"
"Beastly beautiful!" mocked the irrepressible Mollie. "Horribly lovely,
isn't it, what?"
"Oh, I say now," began Percy. "I--really--"
"Where'd you get the clothes?" broke in Will.
"They're a London importation."
"London importation, my eye!" exclaimed Frank. "Why, Cohen's Emporium, on
Main street, has the same thing in the window marked thirteen
ninety-eight--regular fourteen dollars."
"Oh, I say now! Quit your spoofing!"
"Give us some candy, Sis!" begged Will. "Come on, now, I know
you've got it!"
"I had it, we have it--they had it--thou hast it--not!" quoted Grace,
with a laugh. "Nothing doing this time, little brother of mine."
"And you ate all those chocolates?" This in semi-horrified tones.
"We--not I," corrected his sister.
Percy Falconer, after vainly trying to get in place to walk beside Betty,
who frustrated him by keeping Amy close to her, drifted off to find new
sartorial worlds to conquer.
The others walked on, the boys joining in the talk and laughter. Amy
seemed to have recovered her spirits, and the girls made no reference to
the little tragedy which they knew would soon become public property.
"So you are really determined to go off on that walking trip?" asked
Will, who had floated back to join Mollie.
"We certainly are. Why, don't you think we can do it?"
"Perhaps. But I think you'll run at the sight of the first tramp--or cow;
and as for a storm--good night!"
"Thank you--for nothing!" and Mollie's dark eyes had little of fun in
them as they looked into those of Will Ford.
Eventually Will and Frank left them, and the girls continued on until
they reached Mollie's house.
"Come in," she invited. "I know they baked to-day, and we'll have a cup
of tea and some cake. It will refresh us."
"I ought to be going--home," said Amy, with a little hesitating pause at
the word "home."
"Oh, do come in!" begged the French girl.
As they entered the yard the twins, hand in hand and solemn-eyed, came
down the walk to meet them.
"Oh, the dears!" gushed Grace.
"Isn't she too sweet," whispered Betty, as she caught up Dodo.
"And in need of soap and water, as usual," commented Mollie, drily. "But
Nanette can do nothing with them. They are clean one minute--_voila_!
like little Arabs the next! What would you have?" and she threw herself
into a tragic gesture, in imitation of the imported French maid, at which
her chums laughed.
"Have you a kiss for me, Paul?" demanded Grace, of the little fellow,
when she had replaced his sister on the walk.
"Dot any tandy?" came the diplomatic inquiry.
"Listen to the mercenary little wretch!" cried his older sister. "Paul,
_ma cherie_, where are your manners?"
"Has oo dot any tandy?" came in inflexible accents.
"I might find--just a morsel--if you'd kiss me first," stipulated Grace.
"Tandy fust," was the imperturbable retort. "I like tandy--Dodo like
tandy--we bofe like tandy!"
"The sum total of childish happiness!" laughed Betty "Do, Grace, if you
have any left, relieve this suspense."
Some candy was forthcoming, and then, with more of it spread on
their faces than had entered their chubby mouths, the twins toddled
off content.
"Girls, what do you say to a little row on the river?" asked Mollie, when
they had been refreshed by cakes and tea. "My boat will hold us all, and
we can float down and talk of our coming trip."
"Float down--and--_row_ back," remarked Grace, with emphasis.
"The exercise will do you good. We must get in--training, I believe the
proper word is--in training for our hike."
"Hike?" queried Betty.
"Suffragist lingo for walk," explained Mollie. "Come on."
The Argono river ran but a short distance from Mollie's home, and soon
the four girls were in an old-fashioned, but safely constructed, barge,
half drifting and half rowing down the picturesque stream.
The afternoon sun was waning behind a bank of clouds, screened from the
girls by a fringe of trees. And as they floated on they talked at
intervals of Amy's secret, and of the coming fun they expected to have.
"Let's get farther out in the middle," suggested Betty, when they came to
a wide part of the river. "It's more pleasant there, and the air is
fresher. It is very warm."
"Yes, I think we will have another storm," agreed Grace. "If it rains now
it isn't so likely to when we start."
She was pulling on one pair of oars and Mollie on a second, the others
relieving them occasionally. Soon the boat was in the middle of the
stream. They had gone on for perhaps half a mile, when Betty, who was
sitting comfortably in the stern, toying with the rudder ropes, uttered
an exclamation.
"Oh!" she cried. "My feet are wet! Mollie, the boat is leaking!"
"Leaking?"
"Yes! See, the water is fairly pouring in!"
Mollie made a hasty examination under the bottom boards of her craft.
"Girls!" she cried, in tragic tones, "there's a hole in the boat!"
"Don't say that!" begged Amy, standing up.
"Sit down!" sternly ordered Betty. "There is no danger! Sit down or
you'll fall overboard!"
"Oh, but see the water!" cried the nervous Amy. "It is coming in faster!"
And indeed it was.
"It is those twins!" declared Mollie. "I told them not to get in my boat,
but they must have, and they've loosened the drain plug so that it came
out a moment ago. Quick! See if you can find it!"
There was a frightened search for the plug that fitted in a hole in the
bottom of the boat, through which aperture the water could be drained out
when the craft was on shore.
"It isn't here!" cried Grace. "Oh, Mollie!"
"Keep quiet! It must be here!" insisted the owner of the boat. "It
couldn't get out. Look for it! Find it! Or, if you can't, we'll stuff a
handkerchief in the hole!"
Meanwhile the water continued to pour in through the bottom of the boat,
setting the boards afloat, and thoroughly wetting the skirts of the
girls. And they were now in the centre of the widest part of the river.
CHAPTER VII
TO THE RESCUE
Rapidly the water rose in the boat. It had now set the bottom boards
more fully afloat, and the girls in vain tried to raise their feet out
of the incoming flood. They stared at the swirling water, fascinated for
the moment.
"Girls, we simply must do something!" cried Betty, usually the one to
take the initiative.
"Row ashore! Row ashore!" begged Amy. "It's so deep out here."
"It isn't much shallower near shore," remarked Mollie. "What can have
become of that plug?" and, pulling in her oars she began feeling about in
the bottom of the boat, moving her hand around under the water.
"Maybe the twins took it to make a cat's cradle with," suggested Grace.
"No, it couldn't have been out when we started or the water would have
come in at once," said Mollie. "It has come out only a few minutes ago.
We simply must find it!"
"Row ashore--row ashore!" insisted Amy.
Betty had swung the boat's head around, but the craft was now badly
water-laden, and did not move quickly. The current of the river was
carrying them down the stream.
"Oh, girls!" cried Amy, her voice trembling somewhat, "it's
getting deeper!"
"It certainly isn't stopping from coming in," murmured Mollie. "Where
_is_ that plug!"