The Outdoor Girls at Bluff Point

L >> Laura Lee Hope >> The Outdoor Girls at Bluff Point

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

The helpless maid was just bringing in an enormous layer cake to the
accompaniment of admiring glances from the girls when the sound of a
latch key in the door made the lady of the house look up with a start.

"It must be my son!" she said, rising hastily, "if you will excuse me a
moment--"

Then came the sound of a hearty greeting in a masculine voice, followed
by a slithery sound of wet clothing. Evidently the newcomer was
divesting himself of some uncomfortably damp apparel. They could hear
his mother speaking in a low voice--probably she was preparing him to
meet the unexpected guests.

"By Jove! did you say two cars?" they heard him exclaim, and it suddenly
seemed to them there was something familiar about his voice. "Now I
wonder--all right, Mother. Just give me a minute to get some dry
clothes on and I'll be right with you. Gosh, but I'm starved!"

The girls smiled sympathetically, for was it only half an hour ago they
had been in that identically uncomfortable state.

"I bet he's nice," said Mollie to Betty, in a whisper just before their
hostess once more entered the room. "Anybody with an appetite like that,
has to be."

"Oh, you shouldn't have waited for me," said the lady, noting that the
ice cream that had followed hard on the heels of the chocolate cake had
begun to melt. "I don't know what to do with that boy," she added,
smiling with a mixture of irritation and fond indulgence. "When he gets
out on his motorcycle, miles mean nothing to him and time means less. He
is always late to dinner."

"I shouldn't think he would have found the riding very pleasant
to-night," said Betty smiling. "In fact, it is a wonder he could ride at
all--the roads are almost impassable."

"Quite impassable, you mean," put in Mollie.

"Oh, he has conquered that difficulty," their hostess explained, her
eyes once more lighting with pride in her son. "He has a sort of path
through the woods, which, while it perhaps lacks the comforts of a state
road, at least is not inches deep in mud. He did get caught that way
once and was several hours coming a few miles."

"She said he rode a motorcycle," remarked Grace to Mollie with apparent
irrelevance as the lady turned to speak to Mrs. Ford.

"Well, what about it?" inquired Mollie, as she proceeded with wonderful
concentration to spear one last small but delicious piece of chocolate
on the end of her fork.

"Doesn't that convey anything to your benighted mind?" Grace was
drawling sarcastically when Betty leaned toward her eagerly.

"I thought his voice sounded familiar," she said. "Of course we know who
he is now."

"Good evening, everybody," said the familiar voice, and they turned to
find its owner strolling toward them across the room.

"Mr. Joe Barnes!" cried Mollie impulsively, then checked herself and
slowly grew red.

"That's who," sang out Joe Barnes slangily, and in the laughter and
greetings that followed Mollie forgot her embarrassment.

Only Joe Barnes' mother looked completely surprised and taken aback.

"You know each other, then," she rather stated than asked as there was a
lull in the conversation. "I had no idea--"

"Of course you hadn't," agreed her son, as he took the vacant seat
beside her and turned upon her a pair of very handsome laughing eyes. "I
didn't either until a few minutes ago, and we haven't been acquainted
more than a few hours."

"Your son did us the favor of helping us out of a difficulty this
afternoon," Mrs. Ford explained, taking pity on the lady's bewilderment.
"To be explicit, he performed the very disagreeable operation of putting
a new tire on the front wheel of our car."

"Oh, so that's it," laughed Mrs. Barnes.

"Mother, what do you say to cutting out ceremony and getting down to
brass tacks?" put in Joe Barnes, eyeing hungrily the plate of steaming
soup the maid had set before him.

"We don't serve them," said his mother demurely. "But I shouldn't wonder
if what we have would prove more digestible."

So Joe Barnes entertained them with fun and jokes while he devoured the
different courses with a thoroughness that awoke the admiration of the
girls.

But no matter how conscientiously Joe did justice to the good things set
before him, there was not a moment when he was not conscious of
Betty--Betty on the other side of the table, dimpling and sending him
back sally for sally with ready wit. What lucky chance had prompted
nature to send a thunderstorm that afternoon? The jolly old lady was
certainly on his side!

Then when Joe had decided that nothing remained to devour, the party
adjourned to the living room, where the former put some records on the
phonograph.

The Barnes had a collection of very wonderful records, and for more than
an hour the girls sat entranced as, one by one, Joe produced for their
enjoyment, the greatest artists of the musical world.

Finally some one suggested that Betty play some of the songs they had
loved in those service-filled days at the Hostess House. As the girlish
voices rang out in one patriotic song after another, Joe Barnes, who was
seated on the edge of a table with one foot swinging idly, fidgeted
uneasily, while over his face came a sober, almost sullen expression.

"Gee, I wish they wouldn't!" he murmured to himself.

CHAPTER XI

MYSTERY

Betty presently broke into the opening strains of "There's a long, long
road awinding," and the girlish voices took it up eagerly. They put into
the melody all the pathos and longing of their hearts. They forgot where
they were, the pleasant room faded away, and they saw only a sinister
gray line of trenches, trenches that were death traps for the flowering
youth of America. They were singing to the boys, their boys, and as she
listened Mrs. Ford's eyes filled with tears.

Nor was she the only one of that little audience who could not listen to
the song unmoved. Joe Barnes felt a great, unaccustomed lump rising in
his throat, and as the hot tears stung his eyes he rose hastily and
stood staring at, though not seeing, a great picture of some illustrious
ancestor that hung over the mantel.

And Mrs. Barnes, looking at her son, pressed a hand over her heart, as
though to still a hurt, while in her eyes grew a look of yearning.

"My poor, poor boy!" she murmured over and over to herself.

And the girls, all unaware of the emotions they had awakened, drew the
last sweet note to a lingering close and stood quiet for a moment while
Betty's fingers rested on the keys. Then--

"That was very beautiful," said Mrs. Barnes, trying to speak in a
matter-of-fact tone. "You girls sing wonderfully together."

"We ought to," said Betty, forcing a lightness she did not feel, for as
usual she was the first to sense the tense quality in the atmosphere,
"for we have certainly had practice enough. We used to sing for the
soldier boys at the Hostess House almost every night."

"Yes, but it was sometimes very hard to make _them_ sing," added Amy.
"Often they didn't want to at first. But they always joined in toward
the end, and the gloomiest of them went away with a smile on his lips."

"They could afford to laugh," said Joe Barnes bitterly. He had left the
picture of his illustrious ancestor and had dropped down in his old
position on the edge of the table, leg swinging idly. But his expression
had changed. It was grim and hard.

Betty, looking at him, suddenly remembered, and she could see by the
expressions on the faces of her chums that they also had awakened to
the situation.

With horrible lack of tact, they had offended their kind host and
hostess. That they had not done so deliberately, helped their
self-condemnation not at all.

They had sung patriotic songs, they had spoken of their work at the
Hostess House and of the soldier boys, while Joe Barnes, of military age
and seemingly in perfect health, did not wear a uniform. Even though he
were a slacker, it was terribly bad taste to tell him so in his own
home, while accepting his, or his mother's, hospitality.

And something deep down in their hearts, intuition, perhaps, perhaps a
sort of sixth sense born of their wide experience of boys of all ages,
told them that he was not a slacker. There must be some reason, some
real excuse for his behavior.

"Won't you sing some more?" asked their hostess in an attempt to relieve
the situation, while she kept one eye anxiously on her son. "Surely you
haven't finished."

"I'm afraid we have," said Betty, with a gay little laugh, "for the very
good reason that we don't know any more songs to sing."

"And we want to hear some more real music," added Mollie, gamely
following her lead. "That is, if you are not tired."

"Oh, no, music never tires us," returned Mrs. Barnes, adding, with a
little entreating glance at her son: "Will you put on another record,
dear--something light and merry this time?"

"How about some dance music?" queried Joe pleasantly. He was very much
ashamed of his weakness and ill temper, and was determined to make up
for it. "That's about the lightest and merriest we have."

The girls assented eagerly, and in a few minutes the unpleasant episode
was forgotten--or apparently forgotten. At least, for the time being it
was relegated to the background, and it was not till some time later
that Joe unexpectedly broached it to Betty.

The drenching downpour had changed to a sort of dismal drizzle and Mrs.
Ford, upon remarking this fact had made the suggestion that they get
into the machines again and try to make Bensington. But Mrs. Barnes had
so promptly and emphatically negatived this that there was really no
room left for argument.

"Why, even with dry roads it would take you two hours or more to get
there, for at all times the road is bad between here and Bensington, but
such a thing is simply out of the question with roads that are two feet
deep in mud. No, you must stay for the night. I have plenty of room and
am more than delighted to have you. No, please don't object, for I will
not hear of your doing otherwise."

And so it had been settled, much to everybody's satisfaction.

However, Betty was very much surprised when, in the midst of a beautiful
dance with Joe Barnes--for Joe was a rather wonderful dancer--the latter
whirled her off toward a window seat in one corner of the room and
placed her, a little breathless, upon it.

"Well," she said, that unconquerable imp of mischief dancing in her
eyes, "have you any adequate excuse to offer for the spoiling of an
exceptionally good dance?"

"Is it spoiled?" he asked reproachfully, as he sank down beside her. "I
thought perhaps I was improving--the occasion."

She made a little face at him, incidentally showing all her dimples.

"I suppose, if I were a coquette," she said, flushing a little under the
very open admiration of his eyes, "which I am not--"

"I'm not so sure," he murmured but she pretended not to hear the
interruption.

"I should deny that you had spoiled the dance. As it is," she flashed
him a pretty smile that robbed her words of all sting, "I'm telling you
the truth."

"And I," he countered, "am telling you the truth when I say that if it
were possible to talk with you and dance at the same time, I should not
have brought you here. As it is, I choose the greater of the two
blessings."

"It must be very important--this that you have to say to me," replied
Betty, adding demurely: "Perhaps if you would tell me all about it, we
could dance again."

"In other words, 'get the agony over'," said Joe, with a grimace. He
waited a moment, while the girls, who had danced to the end of the
record, turned it over, put in a new needle and started off all over
again.

"I don't know whether it will seem important to you or not," he said at
last, turning slowly toward her. "But what I have to tell you is just
about the most important thing in life to me."

The tone as well as the words sobered Betty, and she turned to him
earnestly.

"I shall be very glad to hear it then," she said simply.

"I--you--it's rather hard to begin," he stammered, then straightened up
and faced her frankly.

"The truth is, I can't help knowing that you wondered when you first
saw me and am wondering now--as any one has a right to wonder these days
when they see a fellow like me in civilian clothes--"

Betty started and the color rushed to her face.

"No, I haven't--" she began, then stopped confused, remembering that she
had been wondering just that thing only a few minutes, yes, only a
minute before. "I mean I thought--"

"Yes, it's easy to guess what you thought," he interrupted,
misinterpreting her sentence while the bitter look crept once more into
his eyes. "It's easy enough to guess what everybody thinks. But," he
straightened his shoulders and threw back his head, "I don't think
anybody will have a right to think that very much longer. You see," he
added, turning to her again and speaking more calmly, "I tried to enlist
at the beginning of the war, but they told me there was something wrong
here," he touched his chest, "with my lungs."

Betty gave an involuntary exclamation of pity.

"The doctor said it was just beginning," he went on slowly, "and he
said--he was a good old scout, that doctor--that if I got out of the
city where I could get fresh air, eggs, and milk--you know, the same old
stuff--that I might succeed in curing myself up in a hurry and get in
the game in time to bring in my share of helmets after all."

"Oh, so that's why you and your mother are away out here!" cried Betty
eagerly, laying an impulsive little hand on his. "And you are well,
aren't you? Why, you must be! You look the very picture of health."

Joe gulped a little, looked at the friendly little hand on his, tried to
speak once or twice and failed, then--

"I feel just fine," he said, striving to make his voice sound natural.
"I never cough any more, and I've got the appetite of a wolf--you saw
how I ate to-night--" a faint smile lighted his eyes and found an
answering one in Betty's. "Yet, I've been holding off for more than
three weeks for fear--just for fear--everything isn't all right. You
see, they've made a coward of me. I'm afraid of being refused twice."

"Oh, but you won't be!" cried Betty, with honest conviction in her
voice. "I'm not much of a doctor, although I've met so many of them at
Camp Liberty and heard them talk so much about different diseases that I
feel I ought at least to qualify as an assistant," she paused to smile
at herself and he thought he had never seen anything so pretty in his
life, "and I would say that whatever your trouble has been, it is cured
now. I'm sure of it."

"Hold on, hold on," he entreated a little huskily. "If I could only
believe that--"

"Say, you two over there," Mollie's voice broke in upon them gayly,
"we've been trying hard to be polite and not interrupt, but the clock
has just struck twelve and we have a long ride before us to-morrow--or
rather, to-day!"

Betty replied laughingly, but before she could rejoin the others, Joe
had whispered another question.

"You really meant what you said?" he asked.

"With all my heart," she answered earnestly.

CHAPTER XII

NEARLY AN ACCIDENT

"Look at the sun! Look at the sun!" cried Betty, sitting up in bed and
gazing joyfully out at the sun-drenched landscape. "Girls, for goodness
sake, wake up. How can you sleep, Grace?"

Grace groaned and opened one eye.

"House afire?" she asked sleepily.

"Of course not, Silly. But the world is."

Betty was evidently in high spirits, thought Grace, as she rolled over
and regarded her critically.

"What do you mean--'the world is'?" she inquired grumpily, managing with
great difficulty, to open the other eye. "Can't you talk sense?"

"Not on a morning like this," retorted Betty, running to the window and
thrusting her head far out into the balmy air. "Look, Lazybones, the
roads are pretty nearly dry and we couldn't ask for a more wonderful
day."

"What time is it?" queried Grace, without enthusiasm. She was always
unenthusiastic before breakfast in the morning, especially if she
happened to get to bed rather late the night before.

"Half-past six," replied Betty, turning from the window and beginning
hurriedly to gather her things together. "And we all agreed last night
to get up at six. I wonder if I'm the only one stirring."

As if in answer to her question, there came a soft tap on the door and
their hostess' voice speaking to them.

"Breakfast is almost ready," she said. "I had it prepared early
especially for you."

"That was dear of you," replied Betty, adding with the greatest of
optimism, considering that three of them were not yet out of bed: "We'll
be down in ten minutes."

Although the ten minutes stretched into fifteen, it is a tribute to
Betty's excellent generalship that the dressing of the other three girls
was managed in that time.

But perhaps the aroma of bacon floating temptingly up to them had
something to do with it after all, for they all four boasted youthfully
unimpaired appetites.

However that may be, the fact remains that in fifteen minutes from the
time Mrs. Barnes stopped at the door, four very pretty and very hungry
young girls gathered in the dining room, ready and eager for the day's
adventure. Mrs. Ford was already there.

Joe was there too, looking even more bronzed and attractive in the
morning light, and Betty, glancing at him, could scarcely believe that
what the boy had told her the night before had not been a dream. That
splendid specimen of young manhood refused the right to serve his
country because he had lung trouble! She could not even bring herself to
think that other word, that horrible word, consumption.

But there was one thing certain--she had not been mistaken in her
judgment of the night before. He might once have been the victim of
disease, but he surely was not now.

Perhaps something of what she was thinking was reflected in her eyes as
she looked at him, for he returned the glance with so much admiration in
his own that she hastily looked away and became absorbed in the bacon on
her plate.

It was a very merry breakfast and a very good one, and when the time
came at last for taking leave of their lovely hostess, they found
themselves unexpectedly reluctant to do so.

"I wish you were coming with us," said Mrs. Ford, after the lady had
waved aside her thanks for the good time they had had. "I am sure you
would enjoy the trip almost as much as we would enjoy having you with
us."

"I wish it were possible for me to go," Mrs. Barnes replied rather
wistfully, as they started down the steps to the waiting automobiles.
"It is rather lonesome out here," then, catching a glance from her son,
who was trying to carry three handbags at once, she added hastily: "But
of course I love it and would miss it awfully. Joe, be careful, dear,
you nearly dropped that bag in the dirt."

"I always thought I'd make good in the juggling profession," replied Joe
ruefully, as he skillfully recovered the bag in question, "but I guess I
was mistaken. Where do these go, Miss Billette--anywhere?" he asked,
turning to Mollie.

"Yes, just throw them in," replied Mollie, carelessly, absorbed in
testing out her engine. "Only leave room for Mrs. Ford, that's all."

Then, as Amy stopped to speak to Grace, Joe escorted Betty to her little
racer and helped her into the driver's seat, though little help Betty
needed or asked of anyone.

"It's rather a rough deal, isn't it?" he asked suddenly.

"What?" inquired Betty, surprised.

"Fate introduces us one minute, then snatches you away in the next,
before I've had time for more than a word with you."

"Why, I remember several words we've had together," laughed Betty as she
settled herself more comfortably in her seat. "Is there anything
particular you want to say to me?"

Joe started to speak, evidently thought better of it, and looked up at
her soberly.

"I've already told you more than I ever expected to tell any one," he
said, and she stretched out an eager, sympathetic little hand to him.

"I know, and I have felt very proud of that confidence," she said
earnestly.

"Then you will let me write to you and tell you how things are with me?"

"Oh, I should be so glad!" she said, and there was no doubting her
sincerity.

He had no more than time to flash her a grateful glance when Grace came
up and put an end to the conversation.

Amid expressions of friendship on both sides and laughing farewells, the
two cars slid backwards along the drive and out on to the road. Then
with a purring of engines, the little racer leaped ahead with Mollie in
close pursuit. They were off once more.

It was as Betty had said. The long clear night and the bright morning
sunshine had done much toward drying the roads and though they were
still rather sticky and slippery, the girls had no difficulty in keeping
up a good rate of speed.

"This is something like," cried Grace, as she stretched both arms above
her head and breathed deep of the balmy air. "I could be completely
happy if it weren't for one thing."

Betty had no need to ask what that one thing was, and at mention of it
her thought turned involuntarily to Allen. Was he safe or had he
too--she shuddered at the thought.

"Wasn't it strange?" she said, seeking to change the conversation and
the trend of her own thoughts at the same time, "that Joe Barnes proved
to be Mrs. Barnes' son?" It was not at all what she had intended to say,
and out of the corner of her eye she saw Grace turn and look at her
curiously.

"No, I can't see that it's so very strange," Grace said dryly. "At least
I have seen stranger things."

"Well, you know what I mean," retorted Betty, still absently. "He is
awfully nice, isn't he?"

"That's what he seemed to think of you," returned Grace slyly.

"Of course he did! Why shouldn't he?" challenged Betty, coming out of
her abstraction and smiling gayly. "I like me, myself."

"That's the worst of it," sighed Grace, turning for consolation to her
inevitable box of chocolates. "No matter how awful you are, we have to
love you just the same. Look out, Betty," as the car took a curve on
three wheels. "Goodness! you're getting to be a more expert skidder than
Mollie."

"Thanks," returned Betty, executing a bow whose grace was somewhat
impaired by the proximity of the steering wheel. "Willst hand me a
candy, Gracie, honey? Thanks. That's a good girl!"

For a long time after that they were quiet, enjoying the swift motion,
the warm wind upon their faces, the fragrance of flowers and of moist
sweet earth flung to them from the depths of the woodland.

Before they knew it, they had reached the outskirts of Bensington, then
Bensington itself, and were speeding through the queer little town
without a thought of stopping when a warning signal from Mollie's horn
brought them to an abrupt stop. Betty jumped out and ran back.

"We'll need some provisions," Mollie called to her. "Unless you and
Grace think we can reach the next town by noon."

"That's what we planned to do," Betty answered. "Grace and I thought it
would save time not to stop here--and we haven't any time to waste, you
know."

"All right," Mrs. Ford decided. "Perhaps it will be just as well, for we
shall have to put on all speed in order to reach Bluff Point before
night."

So Betty raced back to her machine and in a moment more they were off
again, fairly eating up the miles. As the roads grew dryer and dryer
beneath the scorching heat of the sun they made even better time until a
little past twelve o'clock they entered the little village of Hill
Crest.

The place boasted nothing so magnificent as a hotel, but they managed to
find a little bake shop where the rosy-cheeked country woman who worked
there made them up some delicious sandwiches, supplied them with
tempting rolls and cake, and, wonder of wonders, set upon the table a
pitcher of fresh milk.

When they had finished this rural but eminently satisfying repast, they
hurried over to the one big general store to buy a few supplies that
they would need that night. It was necessary to lay in only a limited
amount, as Grace's aunt Mary had thoughtfully left her cottage well
stocked and had informed them that eggs, chickens and vegetables of all
kinds could be had fresh from the farmers round about.

Then they were off again, eyes upon that ribbon of road in front, intent
upon reaching their destination before nightfall.

It was not till about four o'clock that they met with their first
setback.

Betty had just rounded a turn in the road, horn honking for all it was
worth, when she found herself almost on top of a huge farm wagon.

She yelled to the driver and put on her brakes hard, hoping desperately
that Mollie would not run into her from behind. Grace shrieked and
covered her face with her hands.

It was a narrow escape, for when the car had finally stopped there was
not more than about an inch between it and the wagon in front. Luckily
Mollie had been warned by the noise of the horn, and had stopped her
machine just around the turn of the road. She and Mrs. Ford and Amy came
running to see what the matter was.

Meanwhile Betty had recovered herself and was smiling apologetically up
at the frightened driver. His horses, startled by the noise and shouting
had tried to bolt, and he had had all he could do to hold them in. The
result was a slightly heated condition on the part of his temper.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12