The Lost Girl
When the young girl whom Linda and Dot had rescued opened her eyes in
the hospital the following day, it was a strange world which she looked
upon. It was as if she had been abruptly transported to another planet,
where her name and her past life were forgotten. She remembered her hurt
head, and the girls who had come down in the airplane, but her mind was
still an utter blank about the days and years that had gone before.
Her forehead throbbed with pain as she tried vainly to think. It was
horrible, terrifying, to be stranded in an unfamiliar place like this,
without any money in her pockets, without any home to go to after she
was well. She pressed her fingers over her eyelids in an effort to bring
back something. But one memory only remained—the dreadful vision of a
ghost!
Kind as her nurse tried to be, she seemed like only a human machine to
this unhappy child, who waited feverishly for the return of Linda
Carlton and Dorothy Crowley—her only friends in the whole world.
About eleven o’clock they came, carrying a bunch of roses and a pile of
newspapers. The girl held out her arms in the pathetic appeal of a lost
child, and both Linda and Dot kissed her tenderly.
“How’s the head this morning?” asked Dot, cheerfully, as she put the
flowers into a vase.
“Oh, it’s better—but—” She glanced eagerly at the newspapers. “Have you
looked at those yet? Has—anybody—reported my loss?”
“I’m afraid not, dear,” replied Linda, sympathetically. “Only ourselves.
But give them time. If you lived far in the country, as you surely must,
they perhaps couldn’t reach them. But when they read of the accident,
and see the description of you, they’re sure to come after you.”
“You haven’t been able to remember yet who you are?” inquired Dot.
The girl burst into tears; the strain of it all, in her weakened
condition, was too much for her.
“No, I haven’t,” she sobbed.
“Try to think about the house you lived in,” suggested Linda. “The room
you slept in—the dining room—the garden. Shut your eyes and imagine!”
“When I shut my eyes, all that I can see is that ghost! No, no—I’m
afraid of darkness.”
“Then try to remember your father or your mother. Their eyes—their
smiles—” put in Dot.
“It’s no use. Oh, what shall I do? Where can I go after I leave this
hospital? I’m—I’m—the most ‘alone’ person in the whole world!”
“But you still have us! We’ll take care of you,” offered Dot,
impulsively. “We’ll take you with us to Green Falls, where we’re
spending the summer, won’t we, Linda?”
“Of course,” agreed her companion.
The girl smiled happily, but only for a moment.
“It’s wonderful of you—but I can’t stay. I’ll have to go somewhere
soon—and where shall it be?”
“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” said Linda brightly. “After you have a
visit with us, and get strong, we’ll get you some kind of job—taking
care of children or something. And you can be studying something to
support yourself. Stenography or typing—in case you can’t find your
parents. How would you like that?”
“Fine! Only I don’t know what those words mean—Sten—sten——”
Linda and Dot looked at each other and smiled. What could they do with a
girl like this? It was too much for them to solve the problem alone, but
perhaps Miss Carlton could offer a wise suggestion.
The girl stretched out her arms helplessly.
“Oh, I know I’m dumb!” she exclaimed. “But please don’t give me up!”
Yet she wasn’t stupid, or uneducated, for she used perfect English, and
the girls noticed when she ate her lunch, which the attendant brought
her on a tray, that her table manners were of the best. She had
evidently been brought up correctly by someone.
“We won’t!” Linda assured her. “We’ll come back for you to-morrow
morning, and if the doctor says that you can leave the hospital, we’ll
take you with us in our airplane.” She purposely didn’t use the word
“autogiro,” for fear of confusing her.
“Now get a good rest this afternoon,” she added, “and look for us bright
and early in the morning.”
It was a promise, of course, for Linda and Dot felt as if this young
girl was their special responsibility. A most inconvenient promise,
however, for it meant remaining another day in Milwaukee.
“Are you sure that you have enough money, Linda?” asked Dot, as they
returned to their hotel for lunch.
“Oh, plenty,” was the reply. “That’s not what’s worrying me. It’s Aunt
Emily. She won’t like it a bit. Still, she wouldn’t want us to leave a
helpless child. I’ll call her up, instead of sending another wire.”
“Why not fly home across the lake this afternoon, and come back
to-morrow?” suggested Dot.
“For two reasons. One is, I want to give the ‘Ladybug’ an inspection
to-day, and the other is, Aunt Emily might not want us to come back. She
might suggest that we just send the girl some money. But that poor
little lonely thing needs friendship more than she needs money.”
“True. But how shall I put in my time while you go over the ‘Ladybug?’”
“Take in a picture show. Or stop back at the hospital.... We can do
something together to-night.”
The afternoon passed all too quickly for Linda at the airport, but when
she left at six o’clock, she had the reassurance that her autogiro was
in perfect condition. She had taken double precaution this time, for she
did not want to run the risk of the slightest mishap with this strange
forlorn girl in her care.
Her aunt accepted the explanation which Linda offered that evening over
the telephone, interrupting her three times to ask her whether she and
Dot were surely all right. Early the next morning the girls sped to the
hospital in a taxi, to find their little charge bandaged and dressed,
ready for departure.
“We’ll fly north along the shore of the lake—or maybe over the water,
since you love that, Dot—and land opposite Green Falls for our picnic
lunch. Then we’ll fly straight across Lake Michigan to home.”
“Home!” repeated the little girl wistfully. How wonderful it must be to
have a home—a place to go to, where somebody cared for you!
But by the time she and Dot had squeezed into the passenger’s cockpit of
the autogiro, she was smiling excitedly. She had been too much dazed on
the other flight to enjoy it, but now she found it a thrilling
adventure. Her head still hurt, but not enough to spoil her delight. How
lucky she was, she thought, to have found two wonderful friends like
these girls!
“You are not afraid, dear?” shouted Dot, above the noise of the engine.
“Oh, no! I love it!” Her black eyes were shining, and there was even a
faint color in her cheeks.
“You have heard of airplanes before, even if you haven’t heard of
typewriters, haven’t you?”
The girl nodded, with intelligence.
Conversation was difficult, and the girls relapsed into silence, until
Linda brought the “Ladybug” down on the western shore of Lake Michigan,
presumably opposite Green Falls, where the girls spread out their picnic
lunch. Then it seemed as if all three of them wanted to talk at once.
“We’ve got to get you a name,” announced Dot, as she unwrapped the
chicken sandwiches which she had secured from the hotel. “If you can’t
remember your own, we’ll have to give you one!”
“Don’t you suppose you’d recall it if you heard it?” asked Linda.
“I don’t know,” replied the girl, dubiously.
“Mary? Elizabeth? Jane?” suggested Dot.
“Dorothy? Elsie? Emma?” added Linda, at random.
But the girl’s memory was still a blank.
“Just give me one—anything you like!” she pleaded.
“All right, that’ll be fun,” agreed Dot, cheerfully. “I always thought
it would be more exciting to name a real person than a doll.” She was
making an effort to keep up the girl’s spirits. “What’ll it be, Linda?”
“Amy!” cried the latter. “After Amy Johnson, you know. I think she’s the
most courageous woman flyer in the whole world to-day! She went from
England to Australia all alone, and then went up into Siberia.”
“She certainly ‘goes places,’” laughed Dot. “I like the name of ‘Amy,’
too.” She turned to the girl. “Does it suit you?”
“Why consult me?” returned the latter, with humor. “Did you ever hear of
anybody’s being asked about the name she got?”
Linda and Dot both laughed, and Dot gave “Amy” a hug.
“These sandwiches are wonderful!” exclaimed Linda. “Dot, you sure do
know how to get good food.”
“Wait till you see the caramel cake I wheedled out of that chef at the
hotel. He had made it for a special party, but I convinced him he’d have
to make another.”
“You’re marvelous!” cried her chum, admiringly.
Little Amy simply couldn’t say anything. She had never tasted food like
this before—at least, if she had, she couldn’t remember. She ate
daintily, not greedily, for she wanted it to last a long time.
“Amy had better stay with me at Green Falls,” decided Linda; “because
there’s more room at our bungalow.” She and her aunt lived alone
together, except for occasional visits from her father, who had a
business in New York, while Dorothy Crowley was a member of a large
family.
“O.K. with me,” agreed the latter. Then, turning to Amy, “You’ll love
Linda’s Aunt Emily. She’s the most motherly soul.”
“You’re sure it is all right for me to go with you?” asked the girl,
plaintively.
“Of course it is!” Linda assured her.
An hour and a half later, they arrived at the Green Falls Airport, and
were surprised to find Ralph Clavering, Linda’s most devoted admirer,
patiently waiting for them with his car.
“Welcome to our city!” he cried, rushing towards the girls as they
climbed out of the autogiro. “Safe and sound!” Then he stopped,
surprised at the sight of the queerly-dressed child at their side. He
frowned, and muttered to himself, “Look what the cat—or rather, the
‘Ladybug’—dragged in!” But aloud he said nothing besides his greeting.
Linda introduced her little friend as “Miss Johnson,” and they all got
into his car.
“Kidnaped?” inquired Ralph, as he started the engine.
“Who?” replied Linda. “Dot or Amy—or me?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I always expect something like that when you don’t
show up when you’re expected—Linda, guess what? I’m getting a plane!”
“An airplane!” repeated Linda, excitedly. “But you weren’t to have one
till you graduated from college.”
“I know. But I convinced Dad I had to have one to follow you around on
your wild-goose chases, all over the globe.”
“Now, Ralph, don’t be silly!”
“It’s the honest truth. That’s the reason I’m getting one.”
Linda blushed; she never could accustom herself to this wealthy young
man’s obvious devotion. His parents were millionaires, and all his life
Ralph had had everything he wanted. Until he met Linda Carlton. He had
asked her to marry him as soon as she graduated from High School, but
she had refused, saying that such a thing was out of the question until
he was through college. Besides, she was too much in love with her
“Ladybug” to be in love with any man. But Ralph went on asking at
regular intervals, just the same.
“What kind?” she inquired.
“An autogiro. I’m rather keen on them, and Dad and Mother think they’re
the safest, so they’re rooting for them, too.”
“I think that’s perfect! And you have your pilot’s license, too.” Ralph
Clavering had taken instructions in flying the same time that Linda had,
more to be with her than because he was actually air-minded. But when
his father had refused him a plane of his own, he had lost his
enthusiasm.
It was only a few minutes’ ride from the airport to the Carltons’
bungalow. Miss Emily Carlton was waiting anxiously on the porch.
“Linda dear!” she exclaimed, as her niece ran up the steps. “I was so
afraid something had happened.”
“But I told you everything was all right last night, Aunt Emily!”
“Yes, of course. But you never can tell what may happen in the
meantime.”
Linda patted her arm reassuringly, and took hold of Amy’s hand.
“This is Amy, Aunt Emily—the girl we rescued. We want to go upstairs
now, and change our clothing. I think Amy can wear some of my sports
things—they’d be short—And Ralph,” she added, turning to the young man,
“can’t you stay to dinner?”
“No, thank you, I must get back. But there’s a dance over at Kit’s
to-night—may I come and get you?” Kit was his sister, one of the first
girls in Linda’s group to be married, soon after graduation from High
School.
Linda hesitated, and looked inquiringly at Amy. She hated to go off and
leave her alone the first night, yet obviously she could not take her.
“Yes, go, Miss Linda,” the girl urged her immediately. “I am so tired
that I want to go to bed soon after supper.”
“O.K. then,” agreed Linda, as Dot and Ralph left together, and she
hurried upstairs with Amy.
“Don’t call me ‘Miss Linda,’ Amy,” she said. “I’m only eighteen. And you
must be fourteen, aren’t you?”
To her dismay the girl burst into tears.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know anything—Linda.”
“Well, don’t worry about it. It’ll be all right soon—everything will
come back to you.”
Amy shuddered.
“Maybe it would be better to forget. I told you about the ghost—and
though there isn’t anything else definite, I just have a horror of the
past. It’s vague——”
“It’s the strangest thing the way you seem to use all sorts of words one
wouldn’t expect of a girl of your age,” interrupted her companion, “and
then don’t know what others mean. Like stenography and typewriting, for
instance.”
“By the way, what are those things?” asked Amy, wiping away her sudden
tears.
“Oh, business terms—I’ll explain later. Clothes are more important now.
We must hurry with our dressing, and get back to Aunt Emily—Let’s see—my
tennis dress ought to do——”
It was a white pleated silk, quite short, and fitted Amy nicely. Linda
took time to curl the girl’s hair, and to put a ribbon around her head,
to hide the bandage. She was amazed to see how really attractive the
girl was, when she was dressed in becoming clothing.
“The shoes don’t fit, but you can wear them for the rest of to-day,” she
concluded. “To-morrow we’ll drive into town—there aren’t any stores in
Green Falls—and get you some to fit.”
“I don’t know why you do all this for me, Linda. I never did anything
for you!”
“But you would if you could. And we love you, Amy. Aunt Emily does, too,
and you must think of us as your own family, until you find your
parents.”
Linda was right about her aunt; the motherly woman took Amy right to her
heart, and when Linda left with Ralph soon after supper, for dances were
informal and began early in Green Falls, Miss Carlton was teaching the
young girl parchesi, and they were laughing and chatting like old
friends.