The Outdoor Girls of Deepdale - Laura Lee Hope
"Well, I must say I thank you," said Mrs. Robertson, to Betty and her
chums. "And as for me taking your money, I'd never dream of it! Won't you
stay to dinner?"
"We must be off," replied Betty, and soon, after more talk and
explanations, and the return of the money left by the girls in the hall,
the travelers were on their way once more.
"Well, I must say, they were neat and clean," observed Mrs. Robertson, as
she went through her house. "Real nice girls."
But Betty and her chums did not hear this compliment. They went on to
visit the sister of Grace, who was not greatly alarmed at their delay,
though she was amused at the narrative of their experience. They remained
there over night, and the next day went on to Simpson's Corners, where
they were the guests of Betty's uncle. This was a typical country
settlement, and the girls only remained one night. Their next stopping
place was to be Flatbush, where Mollie's aunt lived.
The weather was fine now, after the storm, and the roads pleasant through
the country. The grass was greener than ever, the trees fully in leaf,
and there were many birds to be heard singing.
Save for minor adventures, such as getting on the wrong road once or
twice, and meeting a herd of cattle, which did them no harm, nothing of
moment occurred to the girls on their trip toward Flatbush.
They had stopped for lunch in the little village of Mooretown, eating at
the roadside, under some great oak trees, and making chocolate instead of
tea for a change. Then came a rest period before they went forward again.
They were within two miles of their destination, going along a peaceful
country road, arched with shady trees, and running parallel for a
distance with a little river, when Betty paused and called:
"Hark! Listen! Someone is crying!"
"Gracious, I hope it isn't the twins!" exclaimed Mollie.
"Out here? Never!" said Grace.
The crying increased, and then they all saw a little girl sitting on a
stone under a tree, sobbing as if her heart would break. Betty hurried up
to the tot.
"What is the matter?" she asked, pillowing the tousled yellow head
on her arm.
"I--I'se losted!" sobbed the little girl "P'ease take me home!
I'se losted!"
CHAPTER XX
THE BOY PEDDLER
"What are we to do?" asked Amy, in dismay.
"We can't leave her here," added Mollie, and at the word "leave" the
child broke into a fresh burst of tears.
"I'se losted!" she sobbed. "I don't got no home! I tan't find muvver!
Don't go 'way!"
"Bless your heart, we won't," consoled Betty, still smoothing the tousled
hair. "We'll take you home. Which way do you live?"
"Dat way," answered the child, pointing in the direction from which the
girls had come.
"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Grace. "Have we got to go all the way back again?"
"Me live dere too!" exclaimed the lost child, indicating with one chubby
finger the other direction.
"Gracious! Can she live in two places at once?" cried Mollie.
"What a child!"
"She can't mean that," said Betty. "Probably she is confused, and
doesn't know what she is saying."
"Me do know!" came from the tot, positively. She had stopped sobbing now,
and appeared interested in the girls. "Mamma Carrie live dat way, mamma
Mary live dat way," and in quick succession she pointed first in one
direction and then the other.
"Oh, dear!" sighed Amy. "It's getting worse and worse!"
"You can't have two mammas, you know," said Betty, gently. "Try and tell
us right dearie, and we'll take you home."
"I dot two mammas," announced the child, positively. "Mamma Carrie live
down there, mamma Mary live off there. I be at mamma Carrie's house, and
I turn back, den I get losted. Take me home!"
She seemed on the verge of tears again.
"Here!" exclaimed Grace, in desperation. "Have a candy--do--two of them.
But don't cry. She reminds me of the twins," she added, with just the
suspicion of moisture in her own eyes. The lost child gravely accepted
two chocolates, one in each hand, and at once proceeded to get about as
much on the outside of her face as went in her mouth. She seemed more
content now.
"I can't understand it," sighed Mollie. "Two mothers! Who ever heard of
such a thing?"
"Me got two muvvers," said the child, calmly, as she took a bite first of
the chocolate in her left hand, and then a nibble from the one in the
right. "One live dat way--one live udder way."
"What can she be driving at?" asked Amy.
"There must be some explanation," said Betty, as she got up from the
stump on which she had been sitting, and placed the child on the ground.
"We'll take her a little distance on the way we are going," she went on.
"Perhaps we may meet someone looking for her."
"And we can't delay too long," added Mollie. "It will soon be supper
time, and my aunt, where we are going to stay to-night, is quite a
fusser. I sent her a card, saying we'd be there, and if we don't arrive
she may call up our houses on the telephone, and imagine that all sorts
of accidents have befallen us."
"But we can't leave her all alone on the road," spoke Betty, indicating
the child.
"Don't 'eeve me!" pleaded the lost tot. "Me want one of my muvvers!"
"It's getting worse and worse," sighed Mollie, wanting to laugh, but not
daring to.
Slowly the girls proceeded in the direction they had been going. They
hoped they might meet someone who either would be looking for the child,
or else a traveler who could direct them properly to her house, or who
might even assume charge of the little one. For it was getting late and
the girls did not feel like spending the night in some strange place. It
was practically out of the question.
They were going along, Betty holding one of the child's hands, the
other small fist tightly clutching some sticky chocolates, when a turn
of the road brought the outdoor girls in sight of a lad who was seated
on a roadside rock, tying a couple of rags around his left foot, which
was bleeding.
Beside the boy, on the ground, was a pack such as country peddlers often
carry. The lad seemed in pain, for as the girls approached, their
footfalls deadened by the soft dust of the road, they heard him murmur:
"Ouch! That sure does hurt! It's a bad cut, all right, and I don't see,
Jimmie Martin, how you're going to do much walking! Why couldn't you look
where you were going, and not step on that piece of glass?"
He seemed to be finding fault with himself.
"Gracious!" exclaimed Mollie. "I hope this isn't another lost one. We
seem to be getting the habit."
"He appears able to look after himself," said Amy.
The boy heard their voices and looked up quickly. Then, after a glance at
them, he went on binding up his foot. But at the sight of him the little
girl cried:
"Oh, it's Dimmie! Dat's my Dimmie! He take me to my two muvvers!" She
broke away from Betty and ran toward the boy peddler.
"Why, it's Nellie Burton!" the lad exclaimed. "Whatever are you
doing here?"
"I'se losted!" announced the child, as though it was the greatest fun in
the world. "I'se losted, and dey found me, but dey don't know where my
two muvvers is. 'Oo take me home, Dimmie."
"Of course I will, Nellie. That is, if I can walk."
"Did oo hurt oo's foot?"
"Yes, Nellie. I stepped on a piece of glass, and it went right through my
shoe. But it's stopped bleeding now."
"Do you know this little girl?" asked Betty. "We found her down the road,
but she can't seem to tell us where she lives. First she points in one
direction and then the other, and--"
"And we can't understand about her two mothers," broke in Mollie. "Do,
please, if you can, straighten it out. Do you know her?"
"Yes, ma'am," answered the boy peddler, and his voice was pleasant. He
took off a rather ragged cap politely, and stood up on one foot, resting
the cut one on the rock. "She's Nellie Burton, and she lives about a
mile down that way," and he pointed in the direction from which the
girls had come.
"I live dere sometimes," spoke the child, "and sometimes down dere," and
she indicated two directions. "I dot two muvvers."
"What in the world does she mean?" asked Mollie, hopelessly.
"That's what she always says," spoke the boy. "She calls one of her aunts
her mamma--it's her mother's sister, you see. She lives about a mile from
Nellie's house, and Nellie spends about as much time at one place as she
does at the other. She always says she has two mothers."
"I _has_" announced the child, calmly, accepting another chocolate
from Grace.
"And you know Nellie?" asked Betty, pointedly.
"Yes," said the boy. "You see, I work through this part of the country. I
peddle writing paper, pens, pins, needles and notions," he added,
motioning to his pack. "I often stop at Nellie's house, and at her
aunt's, too. They're my regular customers," he added, proudly, and with
a proper regard for his humble calling.
"I'm doing pretty well, too," he went on. "I've got a good trade, and I'm
thinking of adding to it. I'll take little Nellie back home for you," he
offered. "I'm going that way. Sometimes, when I'm late, as I am to-day,
her mother keeps me over night."
"That's nice," said Betty. "We really didn't know what to do with her,
and we ought to be in Flatbush at my friend's aunt's house," and she
indicated Mollie. "Will you go with your little friend?" Betty asked of
the child.
"Me go wif Dimmie," was the answer, confidently given. "Dimmie know
where I live."
"But can you walk?" asked Amy, as they all noticed that the boy's foot
was quite badly cut.
"Oh, I guess I can limp, if I can't walk," he said, bravely. "If I
had a bandage I might tie it up so I could put on my shoe. Then I'd
be all right."
"Let me fix it," exclaimed Betty, impulsively. "I know something about
bandaging, and we have some cloth and ointment with us. I'll bandage up
your foot."
"Oh, I couldn't think of troubling you!" he protested. "I--I guess I
can do it," but he winced with pain as he accidentally hit his foot on
the stone.
"Now you just let me do it!" insisted the Little Captain. "You really
must, and you will have to walk to take Nellie home. That will be
something off our minds."
"Maybe we can get a lift," suggested the boy. "Often the farmers let me
ride with them. There may be one along soon."
"Let us hope so--for your sake as well as Nellie's," spoke Grace. "It's
really kind of you, and quite providential that we met you."
"Yes, ma'am," replied the boy, looking from one pretty girl to the other.
"I'll take care of Nellie. I've known her for some time, you see. I
peddle around here a lot. My father's dead, I haven't got any relatives
except a sick aunt that I go to see once in a while, and I'm in business
for myself."
"You are quite a little soldier," complimented Betty, as she got out the
bandages and salve. "You are very brave."
"Oh, I haven't got any kick coming," he answered, with a laugh. "Of
course, this cut foot will make me travel slow for a while, and I can't
get to all my customers on time. But I guess they'll save their trade for
me--the regulars will.
"I might be worse off," the lad continued, after a pause. "I might be in
as bad a hole as that fellow I saw on the train not long ago."
"How was that?" asked Betty, more for the sake of saying something
rather than because she was interested. The boy himself had carefully
washed out the cut at a roadside spring, and as it was clean, the girl
applied the salve and was; skillfully wrapping the bandage around the
wound. "What man was that?" she added.
"Why," said the boy, "I had a long jump to make from one town to another,
and, as there weren't any customers between, I rode in the train. The
only other passenger in our car was a young fellow, asleep. All of a
sudden he woke up in his seat, and begun hunting all through his pockets.
First I thought he had lost his ticket, for he kept hollerin', 'It's
gone! I've lost it! My last hope!' and all things like that. I was goin'
to ask him what it was, when he shouted, 'My five hundred dollar bill is
gone! and out of the car he ran, hoppin' off the train, which was
slowin' up at a station. That was tough luck, losin' five hundred
dollars. Of course I couldn't do it, for I never had it," the boy added,
philosophically, as he watched Betty adjusting the bandage.
CHAPTER XXI
THE LETTER
The effect of the boy's words on the girls was electrical. Betty paused
midway in her first-aid work and stared at him. Grace, who had,
unconsciously perhaps, been eating some of her chocolates, dropped one
half consumed. Amy looked at Betty to see what the Little Captain would
do. Mollie murmured something in French; just what does not matter.
"Did--did he really lose a five hundred dollar bill?" faltered Betty, as
she resumed her bandaging, but her hands trembled in spite of herself.
"Well, that's what he said," replied the boy. "He sure did make an awful
fuss about it. I thought he was crazy at first, and when he ran and
jumped off the train I was sure of it."
"Did he get hurt?" asked Amy, breathlessly.
"No, ma'am, not as I could see. The train was slowing up at a station,
you know. I think it was Batesville, but I'm not sure."
"That's the next station beyond Deepdale," murmured Grace.
"What's that, ma'am?" asked the boy, respectfully.
"Oh, nothing. We just know where it is, that's all. A five hundred dollar
bill! Fancy!" She glanced meaningly at her companions.
"Well, that's what he hollered," said the boy. "And he was real
excited, too."
"Did you know him?" asked Betty, as she finished with the bandage.
"Never saw him before nor since. It was quite some time ago. I'd just
bought a new line of goods. Anyhow, I'm glad it wasn't me. I couldn't
afford to lose many five hundred dollar bills," and he laughed frankly.
"That's about as much as I make in a year--I mean, altogether," he said,
quickly, lest the girls get an exaggerated notion of the peddling
business. "I can't make that clear, though I hope to some time," he
said, proudly.
"Me want to go home," broke in little Nellie. "Me want my muvvers."
"All right, I'll take you to your real mother," spoke the boy peddler. "I
guess I can walk now, thank you," he said to Betty. "Couldn't I give you
something--some letter paper--a pencil. I've got a nice line of pencils,"
he motioned toward his pack.
"Oh, no, thank you!" exclaimed Mollie.
"We are only too glad to help you," added Betty. "You have done us a
service in looking after the little girl."
"To say nothing of the five hundred dollar bill," added Grace, in
a low tone.
"Hush!" cautioned Betty, in a whisper. "Don't let him know anything
about it."
"And you are sure you wouldn't know that man again?" asked Mollie. "I
mean the one you spoke of?"
"Well, I'd know him if I saw him, but I'm not likely to. He was tall and
good looking, with a little black mustache. He got out of the train in a
hurry when he woke up. You see, he was sitting with his window open--it
was very hot--he fell asleep. I noticed him tossing around in his seat,
and every once in a while he would feel in his pocket. Then he hollered."
"Maybe someone robbed him," suggested Betty, yet in her heart she knew
the bill she had found must belong to this unknown young man--the very
man to whom they had once given something to eat.
"No one was in the car but him and me," said the boy, "and I know I
didn't get it. Maybe he didn't have it--or maybe it fell out of the
window. Anyhow, he cut up an awful row and rushed out. He might have
dreamed it."
"Me want to go home!" whined Nellie.
"All right--I'll take you," spoke the boy. "I can walk fine now. Thank
you very much," and he pulled on his shoe, gingerly enough, for the cut
was no small one. Then, shouldering his pack, and taking hold of Nellie's
hand--one having been refilled with chocolates by Grace--the boy peddler
moved off down the road limping, the girls calling out good-bys to him.
"I hope it's all right--to let that child go off with him," said Mollie.
"Of course it is," declared Betty. "That boy had the nicest, cleanest
face I've ever seen. And he must suffer from that cut."
"Oh, I think it will be all right," said Amy. "You could trust that boy."
"I agree with you," remarked Grace. "Fancy him seeing the man lose the
five hundred dollar bill we found!" she added.
"Do you think it's the same one?" asked Betty.
"I'm sure of it," said Mollie.
"I guess I am too," admitted the Little Captain. "He was the tramp. Now I
will know what to do."
"What?" chorused her chums.
"Let the railroad company know about it. They must have had some
inquiries. I never thought of that before. Look, he is waving to us."
"And little Nellie, too," added Grace. The boy and the little lost girl
had reached a turn in the road. They looked back to send a voiceless
farewell, the child holding trustingly to the boy's hand.
"Come on!" exclaimed Mollie, as the two passed from sight. "We'll hardly
get to my aunt's in time for supper."
And they hastened on.
Somewhat to their relief they learned, on reaching the home of Mrs.
Mulford, in Flatbush--Mrs. Mulford being Mollie's aunt--that the boy
peddler was quite a well-known and much-liked local character. He was
thoroughly honest, and could be trusted implicitly. Some time later the
girls learned from Mollie's aunt that the little lost tot had reached
home safely, and that the boy had to remain at her house for a week to
recover from the cut on his foot.
The mother of the lost child took quite an interest in Jimmie Martin, the
boy peddler, and looked after him, so the news came to Mrs. Mulford, who
had friends acquainted with the parents of the child who insisted she had
"two muvvers."
So that little incident ended happily, and once more the outdoor girls
were left to pursue their way as they had started out. They stayed a day
with Mollie's aunt, a rain preventing comfortable progress, and when it
cleared they went on to Hightown, where they stopped with Grace's cousin.
"And now for the camp!" exclaimed Betty, one morning, when they were
headed for Cameron, where a half-brother of Mr. Ford maintained a sort of
resort, containing bungalows, and tents, that he rented out. It was near
a little lake, and was a favorite place in summer, though the season was
too early for the regulars to be there. Mr. Ford had written to Harry
Smith, his half-brother, and arranged for the girls to occupy one of the
bungalows for several days. Mrs. Smith agreed to come and stay with them
as company.
"Though we don't really need a chaperon," laughed Grace. "I think we can
look after ourselves."
"It will be better to have her at the bungalow," said Betty, and so it
was arranged.
Betty had written to the railroad company, asking if any report of a
lost sum of money had been received, and the answer she got was to
the contrary.
"That leaves the five hundred dollar mystery as deep as ever," she said,
showing the letter to her chums. It had reached them at Hightown.
"Maybe we should have told that boy peddler, and asked him to be on the
lookout," suggested Amy.
"No, I do not think it would have been wise to let him have the facts,"
said Betty.
The girls found the camp in the woods a most delightful place. The
bungalow was well arranged and furnished, and, though there were no other
campers at that time, the girls did not mind this.
"I'll write home and ask Will to come," said Grace. "He might like to
spend a few days here, and Uncle Harry said he could take a tent if
he liked."
"Ask Frank Haley, too," suggested Amy.
"And Percy Falconer!" added Mollie, with a sly glance at Betty.
"Don't you dare!" came the protest.
"I meant Allen Washburn," corrected Mollie.
"He can't come--he has to take the bar examinations!" cried Betty,
quickly.
"How do you know?" she was challenged.
"He wrote--" and then Betty blushed and stopped. Her companions laughed
and teased her unmercifully.
There was some mail for the girls awaiting them at Mr. Smith's house,
having been forwarded from Deepdale. And Betty's letter contained a
surprise. Among other things, her mother wrote:
"There have been some inquiries made here about the five hundred dollar
bill. Down at the post-office the other day a man came in and posted a
notice, saying he had lost such a sum of money somewhere in this part
of the country. His name is Henry Blackford, and the address is
somewhere in New York State. It was on the notice, but some mischievous
boys got to skylarking and tore it off. Your father is going to look
into the matter."
"Oh, maybe he'll find the owner of the money, after all!" cried Mollie.
"Maybe," returned Betty.
CHAPTER XXII
A PERILOUS LEAK
The boys came to the camp at Cameron--Will, Frank--and, as a
surprise--Allen Washburn. Betty could hardly believe it when she saw him,
but he explained that he had successfully passed his bar examinations,
and felt entitled to a vacation. Will had invited him on the receipt of
his sister's letter.
"And we'll have some dandy times!" exclaimed Will.
"What about the man looking for his five hundred dollars?" asked Grace,
for her brother and the other boys knew of the find, and also of the
notice put up in the post-office.
"No one seems to know much about him," said Will, when he had been told
of Mrs. Nelson's letter. "He hurried in, stuck up that notice, and
hurried out again. Then some kids tore off the address."
"He's crazy," affirmed Frank.
"It does seem so," admitted Will. "He asked the postmaster if anyone had
found a big sum of money, and of course Mr. Rock--slow as he always
is--didn't think about the advertisement in the _Banner_. He said he
didn't know of anyone picking up a fortune, and the man hurried off."
"I must write to him, if I can learn that address," said Betty.
The weather continued exceptionally fine, and life in the woods, in the
tent for the boys and the bungalow for the girls, was well-nigh ideal.
They stayed there a week, enjoying the camping novelty to the utmost. At
night they would gather around a campfire and sing. Sometimes they went
out on the lake in a small launch Mr. Smith owned.
Not far away was a resort much frequented by the summer colonists, and
though it was not yet in full swing there were some amusements opened.
These the young people enjoyed on several evenings.
"Well, I do hope my new suitcase comes tomorrow," spoke Grace, for she
had written for one to be forwarded to her, containing fresh garments.
"And I need some clothes!" cried Mollie. "This walking is harder on them
than you'd think."
Fortunately the garments came on time, and in fresh outfits the girls
prepared to bid farewell to the camp, and once more proceed on their
way. The boys begged for permission to accompany them, but Betty was firm
in refusing.
"We said we would make this tour all by ourselves," she declared, "and we
are going to do it. Some other time you boys may come along. But there is
only another day or so, and we will be back home. Please don't tease."
The boys did, but that was all the good it availed them. The girls
were obdurate.
From Cameron they were to go to Judgeville, a thriving town of about ten
thousand inhabitants. Betty's cousin lived there, and had planned a round
of gaieties for her young relative and friends. They were to stay three
days, and from there would keep on to Deepdale, thus completing the
circuit they had mapped out.
So far they had been very fortunate, not much rain coming to interfere
with their progress. The morning they were to leave camp, however, the
weather changed, and for three miserable days they were compelled to
remain in the bungalow.
Not that they stayed indoors all the while, for the travelers fully
merited the title, "Outdoor Girls," and they lived up to it. They tramped
even in the rain, and managed to have a good time.
But the rain sent the boys home, for rain in a tent is most depressing,
and as all the other bungalows were being repaired, they could not live
in one with any comfort.
But finally the sun came out, and the girls really set off on almost the
last stage of their tour. They expected to be in Judgeville at night,
though the walk was about the longest they had planned for any one day.
Shortly before noon their way took them along a highway that paralleled
the railroad--the same line that ran to Deepdale. And, naturally, the
talk turned to the finding of the five hundred dollar bill.
"Do you suppose we'll ever find the owner?" asked Mollie.
"Of course we will!" exclaimed Betty. "It is only a question of time."
Once or twice Amy looked back down the railroad track, and Grace,
noticing this, in the intervals of eating chocolate, finally asked:
"What is it, Amy?"
"That man," replied the quiet girl. "He's been following us for
some time."
"Following us!" cried Betty. "What do you mean?"
"I mean walking along the railroad track back of us."
"Well, that may not mean he is following us. Probably he wants to get
somewhere, and the track is the shortest route."
"He's looking down as though searching for something," said Mollie.
"Maybe he's a track-walker," suggested Amy.
"No, he isn't dressed like that," asserted Betty. She turned and looked
at the man. He seemed young, and had a clean-shaven face. He paid no
attention to the girls, but walked on, with head bent down.