A GOLDFISH IN THE OCEAN
Betty Lee, who was sometimes jokingly called father’s little goldfish,
had acquired that title by reason of her ability to swim and her golden
head, though that was usually covered tightly by a rubber cap. As her
taking part in most of the swimming contests among the girls of Lyon
High necessitated good bathing suits, Betty was already prepared in that
respect for her visit at the seashore.
Secrets were all very well. Betty had interest in everything. But her
greatest interest was in the new experience ahead of her, the new
country and the delights of the ocean. Her father warned her of new
conditions, but she would quickly learn. Though there were no river
current, there would be the undertow. Betty promised to use her common
sense and swim within the boundaries allowed at the resort to which she
was bound.
With the highest anticipations, then, Betty accompanied the Gwynnes and
Kathryn Allen on the fascinating trip East and to New England. Dick Lee
was at a boys camp. His twin, Doris, would soon be at a corresponding
girls’ camp, for it “had to be fair,” at the risk, said Mr. Lee, of
depleting the treasury. Mother and Amy Lou would remain in the city with
Father, but would take an outing with him later, when a business trip
would take him East again. Then Betty, returning from the visit with
Carolyn, would meet other girl friends at a “wonderful” Girl Reserve
camp. Truly the summer could offer no more! Betty’s former chum at the
little town of Buxton, Janet Light, with whom Betty still corresponded
fitfully, as her full life permitted, wrote Betty that she was a “lucky
girl,” and Betty thought so too.
It was all the better that it was a motor trip, with the opportunity to
stop in all sorts of fascinating places, little and big, where there
were thrilling associations of history; and these were as much for
Carolyn’s benefit as for Kathryn and Betty. There were no embarrassing
and hampering ideas of obligation, for Mr. and Mrs. Gwynne had assured
the Lees that their itinerary would be carried out with or without their
guests. There were only the three Gwynnes, with Kathryn Allen and Betty
Lee; for Carolyn’s older sister and others of the household had other
plans of travel.
At the quiet places where they stopped, Betty and Kathryn were permitted
to pay modest hotel bills, but that was all; and many a happy time they
had lunching it on the way, with a big supply of good things, rather
than stop. Mr. Gwynne, with Mrs. Gwynne to rest him at times, did the
driving; for their chauffeur had left their service, very conveniently,
Carolyn said, and they would not engage another until their return home.
Mr. Gwynne’s type of humor made Betty think of her own father. The
families were well acquainted by this time. Mr. and Mrs. Lee would take
the trip to New England from New York, after business was completed, and
with an excited little Amy Lou, who was, however, very dignified about
it at present. Was she not going into the third grade?
Then the Lees would attach Kathryn and Betty, and possibly, as Betty
hoped, Carolyn, for the return and delivery at camp. But Carolyn said
that she could not go so soon. There was the pleasant pressure on the
girls to stay longer, but that could be decided later on. Never was
Betty to forget her first motor trip East. Apparently everybody else was
going, too, or it seemed so after they had reached certain routes of
traffic and travel. The Gwynnes met some old friends at different
hotels, till at times there would be quite a little cavalcade of
acquaintances, travelling together for a while, and there were a number
of boys and girls in some of the parties.
Once they traveled for two days in company with a family whom Carolyn
said they had known “summers.” Passengers in the cars were changed and
the young people were together in the car newly attached to the Gwynnes.
This was driven by Arthur Penrose, eldest son of the new friends,
probably nineteen or so, Carolyn said, a brown-eyed, brown-haired youth,
polite but friendly, though he said less, engaged in driving, than a
younger brother, Archie, who did all the arranging in seats. Betty could
not be sure at first which was “Art” and which was “Arch,” but at last
she straightened it out. Their sister “Gwen” was about Betty’s age, she
thought, a pretty vivacious girl, who was delighted to see Carolyn and
reminded her at first about “old times” till she saw that it would be
better to include the new acquaintances, doing her best to make up for
temporary forgetfulness.
Betty liked Gwen at once. That was the nice thing about this traveling
and you could be sure that any one the Gwynnes liked were worth knowing.
They were in Connecticut at the time of this meeting and at once planned
a picnic dinner, stopping here and there to purchase a heterogeneous
collection, left entirely to the young people to manage. “Have your
picnic,” Mr. Gwynne said, “but don’t expect _us_ to do any cavorting
around over it.” Mr. and Mrs. Penrose and a sister of Mrs. Penrose
occupied the room left by the three girls in the Gwynne car, though
there was some shifting; for the men must talk over affairs and the
ladies must be together.
What Betty did not know at all this time was that the Penroses had come
into her life to stay there. But those things happen in the most casual
meetings.
The Penrose car was a seven-passenger car and at first Arthur drove by
himself while Archie and Gwen did the honors behind. Then Art complained
whimsically that he was being left out; and in some way Betty found
herself elected to sit in front with the driver, a move which pleased
her, with its view of the “Blue Hills,” where they were now, and less
necessity of talking; for they could listen to the rest or talk as they
liked.
But Arthur’s “nice” face was turned to her often, as he called attention
to some scene or made some other comment. Betty told him how it had
happened that she took the trip, where they were going, what a thrill
she had over it and how she enjoyed seeing everything.
“I suppose I notice the scenery more particularly since I want to be an
artist,” said Arthur Penrose. “They tell me that ‘Art’ is the proper
name for me, though Archie makes fun and says he’ll have to support his
artistic brother in the years to come.”
Arthur’s face was full of amusement as he said this. “But I am already
doing a little in commercial art lines, so perhaps it is not so bad.”
“How wonderful!” cried Betty, interested. “I wish I knew more about it.
I draw a little. We have an art course in school, you know, but I like
music best—just play the violin some. Then I like athletics, not so
much the competitive games, you know, but swimming and skating and
riding, that is I’m going to have lessons in that next year. I can ride
in the country, though. Are you in college?”
“Yes, but it may be a waste of time for me to finish. We have to decide
that. I am taking art on the side, but I want to go to a regular art
school, and next summer, if I can raise the cash, I’m going to walk or
swim to Europe and see what the big guys have done.”
Betty laughed at that statement and told “Art” that her father was
always asking her when she was going to swim to Europe. This brought on
more confidences, till Betty felt that she was quite well acquainted.
Art Penrose was as nice as Chet, and presently she found that he knew
the “Dorrance boys” and was glad to hear news from them.
The picnic dinner was more fun. They found a place with a cool spring,
and made the older members of the party comfortable with seats and rugs
from the cars. The boys were used to this sort of thing and as our girls
were accustomed to all sorts of hikes and picnics, it was a small matter
and “loads of fun” to make coffee, “hot dog” sandwiches, and have
heaping plates of good things in a short but happy time, short, Art
said, because it was not possible to handle their elders. They _would_
think of such things as routes and time and how far they had to go.
Art came with his full plate to sit on a log near Betty and to talk more
about his beloved art to sympathetic ears; and when they rose to go, he
lifted a firm finger before her face to say, “You are going to see more
of me, Betty Lee. I have to hear you play on your violin, for one
thing.”
“And I must see some of your pictures,” pleasantly Betty responded. “It
is awfully interesting to hear about it—_very_, I mean. I’m really
trying to improve my English!”
“Don’t worry about your English. Has Gwen told you yet that the Penroses
might possibly move to your little city?”
“‘Little city,’ indeed!” said Betty, though her smile accompanied this
mild rebuke. “And we have a fine art school,” she added, hopefully.
But Arthur Penrose shook his head. “I’m going to Boston—New
York—Philadelphia—Chicago—who knows? But at that I may visit my
family occasionally!”
It was later that Gwendolyn said something of the same sort to Betty and
Kathryn. “And I do hope that I see you girls again. I’m going to write
to Carolyn once in a while now and if we _should_ decide to move there,
we’ll see to it that we live where I can attend the same high school. I
certainly like what you tell about it!”
So they parted, with last smiles and salutes and promises to see each
other again. “The nice thing about life, girls,” said Betty Lee, “is
that you never know what is going to turn up. It’s like a big mystery
story, with little clues that you miss when you’re reading it; and if
you decide one way, it’s one thing and if you decide another way—about
something important, I mean—it’s another way.”
“Listen to our philosopher, Carolyn,” said Kathryn.
“There _are_ girls that don’t think life’s interesting at all,” remarked
Carolyn. “But Betty would find something, even if she lived back in the
Buxton she talks about.”
“It isn’t the _size_ of the _place_, Carolyn,” began Betty, with an air
of wisdom that she knew was comical. “It’s what you’ve got in your
little insides, I guess. But I _am_ ‘lucky,’ as Janet wrote me, to have
so much happening.”
The objective of this trip was a quiet little village on the coast of
Maine, with its rocks and inlets and rivers and lakes. It was such a
place as city people love to find, for while it was being developed as a
resort, it was small, and the outlying homes of the summer residents
were scattered.
From the main highway they drove upon a road which was being repaired,
or made into a respectable road for automobiles. Driving was difficult
now in places, but at last they came upon a smooth road between woods
full of new kinds of trees and growths that made Betty exclaim with
pleasure, as she had before, passing through this to her new country.
She had kept account of all states through which she had passed and
concluded that she was becoming quite a traveled girl. But a wood peewee
called from the depths of the forest and a flock of quail whirred as
they hastened from the bushes by the roadside. Molly Cottontail ran to
cover, and Betty concluded that it was still America and home!
But why call this a cottage! After more driving they came into the
village and beyond it to a bit of a grove, where stood a large house,
new but of a “dear old-fashioned” colonial type; and Mr. Gwynne stopped
the car to let his passengers have a view of it. “Still like it, dear?”
he asked his wife.
“Yes. The setting is exactly what I like, no hard hill to climb, just
this gentle rise and the house among the trees, all white and green.”
So far as Betty was concerned, she could have welcomed the place
forever, and although at this moment she could not see the ocean, she
could hear its waves beating upon the shore not too far away! Its fresh
breezes gently moved the trees and through them in the other direction a
red sun was sinking toward the irregular contour of the land. Betty
needed no camera to remember this, but Carolyn planned at once for
pictures of the house and grounds.
“Tomorrow, girls, we’ll get out and take a lot of pictures of the house
and grounds and get down to the beach, too, in our bathing suits.”
“Please take a picture of me, Carolyn, right _in_ the ocean, to send to
my father!”
“Daddy’s little goldfish among the sharks?” teased Carolyn.
“Ow! You don’t have those, I hope.”
“I never heard of any around here,” laughed Carolyn, “and we’ve been
near this place before, you know. You stay within bounds and you’ll be
all right.”
Supper, a real New England supper served by a cook and a maid already
there to take care of them, came next, then a stroll around the grounds,
whose limits were uncertain as they strayed off into a little grove
chiefly of spruces and pines. Hasty letters home were written by Kathryn
and Betty and a little later three young heads, on as many different
pillows in Carolyn’s big room, drowsed off to the distant booming of the
surf.
In the morning, Betty blinked her eyes and wondered where she was. She
must hurry to get up, for the alarm had gone off and she would be late
for school! For a moment all the old feelings of wanting to stay in bed
and having to get up to get ready for school came over her. Then she
laughed and sat up, looking across at the two other cots, where Carolyn,
by whose bed the alarm was still ringing intermittently, was rubbing her
eyes and reaching down to the floor to shut it off. Kathryn sat up
suddenly in bed and asked, “Where’s the fire?”
But three bathing suits had been laid out ready to be put on. They had
planned a cold dip before breakfast and fearing that they would not be
wakened in time by more or less weary parents or maid and cook who had
been instructed not to have breakfast too early, Carolyn had set the
alarm. The sun was streaming into their East room, chosen by Carolyn,
who wanted to “hear the sea.”
Wrapped in their warmest coats over their bathing suits, the girls made
their way, by a side exit of which Carolyn knew, down a little hill,
down a few steps, then to the beach not far from the accredited bathing
place where Carolyn said they should do their swimming. A few other
people were on the beach for the same purpose.
It was an icy dip this morning and Betty privately thought that she
would prefer the tropics; but at that it was the great old Atlantic
Ocean and she missed none of the thrill that she had expected. A short
swim in the unaccustomed element, salty and “different,” and Betty was
ready for the quick return to the Gwynne cottage, where a shower bath
and a vigorous rub put her in a glow. Three merry faces met Mr. and Mrs.
Gwynne at the breakfast table.
“Did you have your early dip, girls?” inquired Mr. Gwynne.
“Don’t we look like it, Daddy?” asked Carolyn.
“Something has made you all very rosy, I should say, and our little
Gypsy sparkles like a—well, whatever does sparkle.”
“Betty has had her swim in the Atlantic Ocean at last,” laughed Carolyn.
“She found it a little bit chilly, but I think she’s going to try it
again later in the day.”
“Of course. Oh, Mr. Gwynne, it is perfectly lovely here! I’m so
delighted that you brought me!”
“So are we. I’m sure that you will help our enthusiasms, Betty Lee.”