CAN IT BE DONE?
"Dear me!" exclaimed Betty. "How curious you are. I am not allowed to wear
my diamond earrings that Doctor and Mrs. Guerin gave me, of course. They
are the old-fashioned kind for pierced ears, and would have to be reset,
and diamonds are too old for me anyway. But Uncle Dick lets me wear any
thing else I own----"
"That locket," questioned Ida. "That pretty locket. It did fall out of
your bag in the shop, didn't it, Betty?"
"My goodness!" stammered Betty, "did you find it?"
"I picked it up," said Ida soberly. "Mrs. Staples would not let me run
after you with it. But she promised to give it to you when you came and
asked for it."
"She did? She never----"
Then Betty hesitated a moment. She remembered clearly just what had been
said in the little neighborhood shop when she and Bobby had called there
to get Bobby's blue over-blouse.
"It's a fact, I never asked her for it," she said slowly. "No, I never. I
just asked her if she had found anything, and she said 'No.'"
"She would! That would be like her!" cried Ida Bellethorne. "She is a
person who prides herself upon being exactly honest; and I guess that
means barely honest. Oh, Betty Gordon!"
"Well, now what's the matter?" asked Betty.
"Did--did you know you lost it in Mrs. Staples' shop?"
"No. I didn't know where I lost it. I only thought----"
"That I might have picked it up and said nothing about it?" demanded Ida
Bellethorne.
"Why Ida! I would not have hurt your feelings by saying anything about it
for the world," said Betty honestly. "That was why I didn't tell you. You
see, if you really had known nothing about the locket when I asked you,
all the time you would be afraid that I suspected you. Isn't that so?"
"You dear, good girl!" gasped Ida, dabbling her eyes with her
handkerchief. "And I didn't say anything because I thought you would think
I wanted a reward for returning it."
"So, you see, I couldn't speak of it. But now, of course, we'll get it
away from Mrs. Staples. I think she's horrid mean!"
Betty expressed her opinion of the shopwoman vigorously, but she put her
arms around the English girl at the same time and kissed her warmly.
"You're a dear!" repeated Ida.
"You're another!" cried Betty gaily. "Now come on! Maybe those boys will
eat up all the dinner, and I am so hungry!"
One of the men arrived from Cliffdale during dinner with the mail and the
information that another cold rain was falling and freezing to everything
it touched.
"The whole country about here will be one glare of ice in the morning,"
said Mr. Canary. "You young folks will have all the sledding you care for,
I fancy. I have seen the time when, after one of these ice storms, one
might coast from here to Midway Junction on the railroad, and that's a
matter of twenty miles."
"What a lark that would be," cried Tommy Tucker. "Some slide, eh, Bob?"
"How about walking back?" asked the other boy promptly, grinning.
Letters and papers were distributed. There was at least one letter for
everybody but Ida, and Betty squeezed her hand under the table in a
comforting way.
When they all retired from the table and gathered in groups in the big
living room where the log fire roared Uncle Dick beckoned Betty to him. He
put a letter from Mrs. Eustice into the girl's hand and at one glance she
"knew the worst."
"Oh Betty!" gasped Louise, "what's the matter?"
For Betty had emitted a squeal of despair. She shook the paper before
their eyes.
"Come on, Betty!" cried Bob. "Get it out--if it's a fishbone."
"It's all over!" wailed Betty. "Measles don't last as long as we thought
they did. Shadyside opens two days from to-morrow, and we have got to be
there. That's Monday. Oh, dear, dear, dear!"
"Say a couple more for me, Betty," growled Teddy Tucker. "I suppose
Salsette will open too. Back to Major Pater and others too murderous to
mention."
"And the Major's got it in for you Tucker twins," Bob reminded him
wickedly.
"That's Tom's fault," grumbled Teddy. "If he hadn't sprung that snowball
stunt--Oh, well! What's the use?"
"Life, Ted believes," said Louise, "is just one misfortune after another.
But I do hate to leave here just as we have got nicely settled. My
goodness! what's the matter with Ida? Something's happened to her, too."
Ida had sprung to her feet with one of the recently arrived New York
papers in her hand. Actually she was pale, and it was no wonder the
company stared at her when her cheeks were usually so ruddy.
"What is the matter, dear?" asked Mrs. Canary.
Betty went to the English girl at once and put an arm about her shoulders.
"Did you see something in the paper that frightened you, Ida?" she asked.
"It doesn't frighten me," replied the girl, with trembling lips. "See.
Read it. This time I am sure it is my aunt. See!"
Uncle Dick joined the group about the excited girl. Her color had come
back into her cheeks now and her eyes shone. She was usually so
self-contained and quiet that Mr. Gordon now thought perhaps they had not
really appreciated how much the hope of joining her aunt meant to Ida.
"Read it aloud, Betty," said her uncle quietly.
"Oh! Here's her name! It must be right this time!" cried Betty; and then
she obeyed her uncle's request:
"'The Toscanelli Opera Company, Salvatore Toscanelli manager,
which has made a very favorable impression among the music lovers
of the East and Middle West during the last few months, will sail
for Rio Janeiro on Sunday on the _San Salvador_ of the Blue Star
Line. The company has been augmented by the engagement of
several soloists, among them Madam Ida Bellethorne, the English
soprano, who has made many friends here during the past few
years.'"
"Day after to-morrow!" exclaimed Bobby, the first to speak. "Why! maybe if
you can go to New York you will see her, Ida."
"Day after to-morrow," repeated Ida, anxiously. "Can I get to New York by
that time? I--I have a little money----"
"Don't worry about the money, honey," Betty broke in. "You will have to
start early in the morning, won't she, Uncle Dick?"
"If she is to reach the steamer in time, yes," said the gentleman rather
doubtfully.
"Oh! if I don't get there what shall I do?" cried Ida. "Rio Janeiro, why,
that is in South America! It would cost hundreds of your dollars to pay my
passage there. I must get to Aunt Ida before she sails. I must!"
"Now, now!" put in Mrs. Canary soothingly. "Don't worry about it, child.
That will not help. We will get you to the train to-morrow----"
"If we can," interrupted her husband softly.
He beckoned Uncle Dick away and they went out through the hall to look at
the weather, leaving the young folks and Mrs. Canary to encourage the
English girl.
Outside the two men did not find much in the appearance of the weather to
encourage them. It was raining softly, for there was no wind; and it was
freezing as fast as it fell.
"And that old shack-a-bones I keep here during the winter isn't sharpened.
Ought to be, I know. But he isn't," grumbled Jonathan Canary.
"No use to think of snowshoes if it freezes, Jack," rejoined Mr. Gordon.
"It is too far to the railroad anyway. I doubt if these children get to
school on time."
"Telephone wires are down again. I just tried to get Cliffdale before
dinner. This is a wilderness up here, Dick."
"I am sorry for that young English girl," mused Mr. Gordon. "She is fairly
eaten up with the idea of getting in touch with her aunt. Good reason,
too. She has told me all about it. She carries a letter from her dead
father to the woman and he begged the girl to be sure to put it into his
sister's hands. Family troubles, Jack."
"Well, come on in. You're here without your hat. Want to get your death of
cold?" growled Mr. Canary.
The young folks did not dream at this time that nature was doing her best
to make it impossible for Ida Bellethorne to reach New York by Sunday
morning when the steamship _San Salvador_ would leave her dock. It was,
however, the general topic of conversation during the evening. When
bed-time came they went gaily to bed, not even Betty doubting the
feasibility of their getting to the train on the morrow.
Her uncle, however, put his head out of the door again when the others had
gone chamberward and seeing the shining, icy waste of the Overlook,
muttered with growing anxiety:
"Can it be done?"