THE GIRL NEXT DOOR
Such a strange thing had happened! One of the brand-new pillow-cases
was missing! This was Saturday morning and Hulda had been changing the
bedding. Marm announced her loss at the breakfast table. Hulda wasn’t
certain whose pillow the slip had been missing from, but she thought it
was Mr. Brent’s.
“I can’t think where it has got to,” lamented Marm. “You don’t know
where it is, do you, Ned?”
Ned observed her frankly and gravely.
“I do not,” he replied. “And I don’t believe it was mine. At least, I
had both last night.”
“Did you? Well, then it must have been lost this morning. Perhaps Hulda
dropped it somewhere.”
“I hope she didn’t drop it on the stairs,” said Spud anxiously.
“Why?” asked Marm.
“I might slip on it,” was the sober reply. Marm wondered why the
fellows laughed and had to have the joke explained to her by Hoop.
“Maybe,” The Fungus began, “the same person swiped the pillow-case that
took Ned’s eight――”
But he stopped there, pretending to choke on a mouthful of baked
potato. It had been agreed last evening that there was no use in
troubling Marm about Ned’s loss.
“Fungus,” said Sandy in his blandest tones, “do you realize that you
sometimes talk too much?”
“At least,” defended Dutch with a chuckle, “he knows when to shut up!”
“I guess,” said Ned to Sandy when they left the table, “that I’m just
as curious as Marm is about where that pillow-case has got to.”
“Pshaw,” replied Sandy, “never mind about that. What bothers me is that
money of yours. That’s a very funny thing, Ned. Nothing like it has
ever happened in West House since I’ve been here. You don’t suppose――”
he hesitated――“you don’t think that Cal knows anything about it, do
you?”
“Cal? Of course not,” replied Ned emphatically. “I’d trust him
anywhere.”
“Well, he doesn’t seem that sort to me, either,” said Sandy. “I like
the chap. Only he did know the money was there, and then Spud is
certain that he saw someone in front of your bureau; someone who wore a
nightgown. And excepting Cal and Clara the rest of us all wear pajamas.”
“Oh, rot,” said Ned. “Spud was half asleep, probably. Anyway, it’s a
fair guess he couldn’t tell whether the person wore a nightgown or
a――a potato sack. I’ll bet he imagined the whole thing; dreamed it,
probably. I wouldn’t be surprised if I came across the money somewhere,
after all,” he added carelessly.
“Well, I hope you do. I’d hate to think that there was any fellow here
who would steal.”
“I don’t believe it was stolen, Sandy.”
“But you said last night――”
“I know, but I’ve been thinking it over. I’m pretty careless with
things, you know. I dare say I stuck it somewhere and forgot about it.
We won’t say anything more about it, especially outside the house.”
“Not likely!” said Sandy.
Being Saturday there was no school. Ned had said something two or
three days before about walking to Indian Head this morning and Cal
had eagerly agreed to accompany him. Indian Head was a favorite resort
with those who liked walking and lay five miles away across country.
In Revolutionary times a block-house had stood there and had been the
scene of an Indian massacre. Even yet relics were sometimes found and
almost every fellow was the proud possessor of an arrow head purporting
to have been dug up on the site of the old fort. Most of them had
been purchased from the enterprising merchant who sold post-cards and
curiosities in a little log-cabin at the foot of the hill and looked
suspiciously new. Since the affair of last night Cal expected that the
excursion would be dropped. But Ned sought him out after breakfast and
reminded him in an off-hand way that he had agreed to go.
“Hoop and The Fungus are going, too,” he said. “We’re going to start in
about ten minutes.”
“All right,” said Cal after a moment of hesitation. But when he had
thought it over he changed his mind. His grievance against Ned still
held good, and, he decided, he didn’t want to go walking with a fellow
who secretly believed him a thief. So he told Ned he cal’lated he
wouldn’t go. And Ned said “Very well” quite indifferently and the three
went off about half-past nine. Cal watched them from his window and
felt some regret. It was a wonderful morning and he loved to walk.
When he went downstairs the house was deserted, the rest of the
inhabitants having taken themselves off toward school. Cal put his
hands in his pocket and considered. It was too fine a day to stay
indoors. He cal’lated he’d better follow the others over to the
field and see what was going on. Perhaps there’d be a ball game, for
base-ball at Oak Park was played until snow came. Then his eyes fell on
the tennis court and he went in and found a racket and for a half-hour
amused himself knocking balls across the net. After that he wandered to
the gate and through it and started down the road past the Curtis place
in the general direction of town with a half-formed idea of working
back to the field by way of the cross road, which would mean a two mile
stroll. But he wasn’t destined to get his walk this morning, for when
he came in sight of the carriage gate beyond the white farm house he
saw that the nearer post was occupied. On it, swinging her feet and
munching an apple, sat the girl they had seen last evening. Cal didn’t
know very much about the usages of society and wondered whether he
ought to take off his cap to the young lady or speak to her. She was
already aware of his approach and it wouldn’t look well to turn back,
although he would have much preferred that solution of his quandary. He
cal’lated he’d just say “Good morning,” and not bother about his cap.
But the matter was decided for him.
“Hello,” said the girl. “Want an apple?”
“No, thanks,” answered Cal. He still had several yards to go before he
would be up to her and he searched for something further to say; it was
too late now for the “Good morning” he had contemplated.
“Don’t you like apples?” she asked.
“Yes, but I ain’t hungry.” He was up to her now and past and he
breathed easier.
“These are Ghost apples,” said the girl. Cal stopped and turned.
“They’re wha-what?” he stammered. The girl put her head back and
laughed merrily. Then,
[Illustration: “These are ghost apples,” said the girl]
“Ghost apples,” she repeated. “They come in pillow-cases.”
She smiled mischievously down at his alarmed and puzzled face. Cal
glanced apprehensively toward the house.
“What do you know about pillow-cases?” he blurted.
“Lots! Want to know what I know?” Cal nodded.
“Pillow-cases,” said the girl, “are used to cover pillows so that they
won’t get soiled.” She paused and looked at him with dancing eyes. Cal
grunted.
“What else?” he demanded.
“They are also used to――to gather apples in.”
“Look here, did you see us――I mean _them_――I mean――”
She nodded gayly.
“You and them both,” she laughed. “What’s your name?”
“John Boland,” answered Cal. Then he added, thinking that perhaps it
was the correct thing to do: “What’s yours?”
“Molly Elizabeth Curtis.” She made a little backward movement with her
head. “They’re my aunts, you know. I live in New York when I’m at home
but I’m going to be here all winter. Isn’t that awful?”
“Why, aren’t they good to you?”
“Of course they are, silly. But I guess it’s going to be very dull
after New York. Still, I’ve had a pretty good time so far; especially
the night before last.”
Cal had drawn near and now he stood and frowned at the tormentful young
person on the gate post and strove to consider what course to pursue.
It was evident to him that the young person wasn’t going to tell all
she knew until she was quite ready to. Spud, he reflected, had called
her “a fresh kid,” and he cal’lated Spud was about right. Still, she
looked nice and was quite pretty, Cal decided, as girls went. She was
slender and had a very clear complexion, with cheeks in which the color
had a way of coming and going just as though she was able to turn it
on or off at her convenience. Her hair, worn in a braid that hung to
her neck and was caught up again with a blue satin ribbon, was deeply
brown and her eyes were brightly blue. Not that Cal observed all these
things at this time, however. About all he thought was that she was
pretty for a girl and looked as though she was too jolly and nice to
willingly get anyone into trouble. As for her age, he had guessed
pretty near right, he told himself; she was probably thirteen; not more
than fourteen at the most. Cal didn’t know much about girls and was at
a loss how to handle the present situation. He was determined, however,
to get at the truth before he left there. So he began by saying sternly:
“Look here, now, you’d better tell me what you know about the other
night.”
“Dear me!” said Miss Molly Elizabeth Curtis, arching her eyebrows and
looking fearfully alarmed.
“Because if you don’t――”
“Then what?” she asked as he hesitated.
“Well, you better had,” he ended lamely. She laughed.
“Don’t you think, Mister John Something, that you’d better be nice to
me instead of making threats? Supposing――just supposing, now――I was to
show Aunt Matilda what I have hidden in my trunk.”
“What――what is it?” asked Cal uneasily. Molly leaned down and whispered
dramatically:
“A pillow-case marked ‘West House’ in black ink on the hem!”
“You――you wouldn’t do that, though,” said Cal, half questioningly.
“You’re too nice a girl.”
The nice girl put her head back and laughed harder and merrier than
ever, until Cal looked again toward the house and wondered if Miss
Matilda could hear.
“You’re――you’re awfully funny,” she gasped finally. “Aren’t you?”
“I cal’late so, maybe,” answered Cal, willing to agree for the sake of
diplomacy. “Is that pillow-case in a good safe place, Miss? You know if
Miss Matilda got hold of it she’d show it to our principal and he’d―― I
don’t know what he’d do; suspend us, likely.”
“She won’t ever see it,” replied Molly reassuringly. “It’s in my trunk
and my trunk’s locked and here’s the key.” She tugged at a little blue
ribbon around her neck and drew forth the key in proof. “I’m keeping it
as a trophy, you know. I mean the pillow-case. My, but it was fun!”
“It wasn’t you, was it?” cried Cal. Molly nodded with sparkling eyes.
“Yes. Want me to tell you all about it?”
“Yes, I do,” answered Cal.
“Beg my pardon for saying what you said, then,” she commanded.
“What did I say?” muttered Cal.
“That I’d better tell you or――or something! Don’t you know that you
mustn’t threaten a lady? Besides,” she added thoughtfully, “it just
makes them stubborner.”
“All right,” said Cal grudgingly. “I won’t do it again.”
“But go ahead.”
“Go ahead――what?” he asked.
“Beg my pardon. You haven’t yet, you know.”
“Oh, well――all right. I do.”
“But you don’t!” she exclaimed impatiently. “You just stand there and
say you do and you don’t!”
“Seems to me you’re mighty particular,” he grumbled.
“I guess you don’t want to know about it, after all,” she said
indifferently.
“Yes, I do, honest! I――I beg your pardon, Miss.”
“Well, but please don’t call me Miss. I’m only thirteen and you’re not
a miss until you have long dresses. Call me Molly. What do they call
you? Jack?”
“No, Cal.”
“Cal? That’s a funny name. Is it your middle name?”
“No, it’s just――just a――a nickname.”
“Oh, all right.” She folded her hands in her lap, having finished with
her apple, and considered her narrative. “Well, it all happened like
this,” she began after a moment. “You see, there’s just me here and no
one to play with. Of course I don’t mind that so _very_ much because
I like to read books and stories. But it _would_ be nicer if I knew
somebody, wouldn’t it? That’s what I told Aunt Lydia and she said it
was too bad I wasn’t going to school because I’d meet lots of girls
there. You see, father doesn’t want me to go to school this winter
because I’m pretty well along anyhow and then my eyes got bad last
spring. I told Aunt Lydia I guessed I’d like to know some of the boys
next door, but she just held up her hands in horror. Did you know, Cal,
that you are awfully bad? Aunt Matilda says so. She says you’re a――a――
Oh, what was it? A ‘parcel of young varmints,’ that’s it!”
Cal grinned and Molly smiled back at him.
“I guess Aunt Matilda doesn’t like boys very well, though,” she
continued extenuatingly. “Anyhow, she said I mustn’t think of playing
with any of you. But I used to hear you across the hedge and one day I
thought I’d like to see what a ‘varmint’ looked like. So I went over
there and peeped through. You were playing tennis, some of you, and
some of you were on the porch. And just then two――I think you were one
of them, Cal――came over toward the hedge and I heard you talking.”
Cal grunted. The mystery was clearing up.
“I remember,” he said. “We were talking about getting through the
hedge.”
“And stealing――I mean helping yourself to the apples.”
“I guess stealing’s the word,” he said with a smile.
“The other boy saw me or heard me or something, don’t you remember? I
got down on the grass and hid until you’d gone. Then I thought what fun
it would be to surprise you. I didn’t want to tell because――oh, because
I should think it would be rather fun to steal apples. Isn’t it?”
“I don’t know. It wasn’t very much fun the other night!”
“Oh, yes, it was――for me!” cried Molly.
“I――we thought you were a ghost,” said Cal a trifle shamefacedly.
“I meant you to!”
“I don’t see, though, how you did it.”
“I’ll tell you. It was a――an inspiration, I guess! You see, I didn’t
mind you taking all the apples you wanted, because there are just
bushels and bushels of them and my aunts would never miss them a tiny
bit, but I did want to have some fun. At first I thought I’d wait for
you at the hedge and threaten to tell if you didn’t take me along with
you. But I didn’t know any of you, you see. Then I just decided that
I’d have fun my own way. So I got a sheet out of the linen-closet and a
broom from the kitchen. I did that before supper and hid them under the
bed in my room. What made it very difficult was that they insist on my
going to bed every night at half-past nine. At home I _always_ stay up
until ten. So I had to go to bed as usual, though, of course, I didn’t
really take all my clothes off. Aunt Lydia always puts her head in my
door and says good night to me. That’s my room on the side. See the
two windows over the porch? That’s how I got out. I was afraid to go
downstairs because my aunts would be certain sure to hear me. So after
Aunt Lydia said good night I crept out of bed and dropped the broom and
the sheet out of the window. Then I came down after them.”
“I don’t see how you did it,” said Cal with a trace of admiration. “You
didn’t jump, did you?”
“No, there’s a rain-spout on the other side; you can’t see it from
here. I got down by that and I got back the same way. It isn’t hard at
all. You stand on the porch rail and then you put one foot on the thing
that holds the spout up and the other on top of the dining-room window,
and then you can get your knee over the edge of the roof and you’re all
right. I made sure I could do it before supper, though. After I got
down I took the sheet and the broom to the wagon-shed back there and
got ready. I waited and waited and thought you weren’t coming after
all. Then I could see you moving down by the hedge. So I crept out and
went around through the blackberry patch until I was at the edge of the
orchard. But you were all so busy you wouldn’t have seen me, anyway.
When you did see me, though, it was just too funny for anything!”
Molly laughed merrily at the memory of it and Cal said “Huh!” in a
disgusted tone and looked bored.
“It was a silly trick to play,” he said severely.
“Because you were fooled,” responded Molly serenely. “I guess I must
have looked pretty――pretty ghastly! Anyway, you all yelled like anything
and just ran! I _was_ glad you got your apples, though. I suppose you
were all too scared to drop them!”
“I didn’t get mine,” said Cal grimly. “Mine were under the tree.”
“Then it’s your pillow-case I found!” exclaimed Molly, clapping her
hands gleefully. Cal nodded. Then he grinned.
“I was up in the tree,” he said. Molly frowned.
“When?”
“After――the others left.”
“You never were!”
“Yes, I was. And you came right underneath and I was――well, I was
pretty frightened.” Molly giggled. “You’d have been, too,” he added
defensively.
“Of course I would,” she owned. “I guess I’d have fallen right out
of the tree. I wish, though, I’d known you were up there, Cal,” she
went on regretfully. “I’d have stayed there, I guess. Did you see me
dancing?”
“Was that what you were doing? I couldn’t see very well on account of
the leaves, but sometimes you looked about ten feet tall and sometimes
you weren’t any higher than that.” Cal put his hand a couple of feet
from the sidewalk.
“It was the broom made me look tall. And I guess when I wasn’t any
higher than that I was stooping down emptying the apples out of that
pillow-case. I do wish I’d known you were up there, though.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” said Cal with a laugh. “It was bad enough as it
was. What did you dance for?”
“Oh, just――just for fun,” answered Molly vaguely. “It was a Dance of
Triumph.”
“Where did you go to? It seemed to me you just――just vanished.”
“I suppose that was because I took the sheet off. I had a dark dress
on.” She smiled reminiscently. “It was lots and lots of fun, Cal.”
“Maybe it was for you,” he grumbled. “We didn’t think it was very
funny. We thought it was a ghost for sure. I cal’late the fellows will
be glad to find out what it really was. Spud said last night he was
pretty sure you knew something about it.”
“Was he the boy who came with you for the apples?” Cal nodded. “Do you
think they’ll be very――very angry with me?” she asked. “It was just a
joke, you know.”
“No, I cal’late not,” answered Cal. Molly gave a little shriek of
triumph.
“Now I know why they call you Cal!” she exclaimed. “It’s because you’re
always saying ‘cal’late.’”
Cal reddened. “That’s why,” he confessed. “They make a lot of fun of
me. I don’t see why cal’late ain’t just as good a word as――as any other.”
“I suppose it hasn’t the sanction of usage,” replied Molly glibly. Cal
blinked.
“I cal’late――I mean I guess that’s it,” he murmured. Molly laughed.
“You said it again, you know.”
“Yes,” answered Cal, “I’m trying to get out of it, but I keep
forgetting.” There was a moment’s pause, and then, “Mrs. Linn missed
her pillow-case this morning,” he announced carelessly.
“Did she?”
“Yes. I cal――I guess if I had it I could get it back and she wouldn’t
know.”
“I suppose you could――if you had it,” agreed Molly.
Cal eyed her askance.
“You might give it back to me, I think.” But Molly shook her head.
“No, it’s――it’s spoils of war. Besides, I shall keep it and make you all
do just what I want.”
“What?” exclaimed Cal uneasily. “What――sort of things?”
“Oh, I haven’t decided yet. Not fully, that is. There’s one thing you
must do, though. I want to learn to play tennis. I guess one of you can
teach me that. And I want to see a football game.”
“Oh!” said Cal gloomily. Then, brightening up, “But your aunts won’t
let you have anything to do with us,” he said hopefully.
“But they will after awhile,” answered the young lady with a slight
toss of her head. “You――you’re the wedge.”
“The what?” gasped Cal.
“The wedge, the entering wedge. Aunt Lydia has been watching us out of
the sewing-room window for a long time, and she will tell Aunt Matilda
and Aunt Matilda will scold. Then I shall tell her what a nice, polite
boy you are and that you invited me to play tennis with you――”
“I didn’t!” cried Cal indignantly.
“But you’re going to,” returned Molly calmly.
“I’m not either! I――I don’t play tennis.”
“Never mind. You’ll take me over some day and one of the other boys
will show me how.”
“I guess girls aren’t allowed at West House,” said Cal desperately.
“Oh, fiddle! You don’t guess anything of the sort.”
“Well, anyhow, I won’t have anything to do with it,” declared Cal with
decision. Molly looked regretful.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “because I’m so afraid Aunt Matilda will make
trouble when she sees that pillow-case.”
“You――you wouldn’t show it to her!” he gasped.
“I wouldn’t want to,” she answered gently, with a shake of her head.
Cal considered a minute. Finally,
“All right,” he muttered ungraciously, “I’ll see about it.”
“Thank you,” she murmured. “And you do want me to play tennis with you,
don’t you?”
“I cal’late I’ve got to,” he replied. Then the humor of it reached him
and he chuckled. “You’re a pretty smart girl, you are,” he said in
grudging admiration. Molly accepted the tribute gravely, but there was
a glint of laughter in her blue eyes.
“I cal’late I’ve got _some_ sense,” she replied demurely.
Cal flushed. “If you make fun of me I won’t do it,” he declared
aggrievedly.
“I didn’t mean to make fun of you, truly,” she assured him contritely.
“And――and I think ‘cal’late’ is a very nice word. I guess you’d better
go now, though, because Aunt Matilda’s coming.”
“Where?” he asked in alarm. Molly nodded down the road.
“In the buggy. She’s been to the village. Oh, you needn’t run, because
she’s seen you already. But if you just walk off you’ll get away before
she can say anything.”
“But――but she’ll scold you, won’t she?” he asked, pausing indecisively
in flight.
“Yes, but I don’t mind. Besides, she doesn’t really _scold_; she just
‘expostulates for my own good.’ Good-by. Come to the hole in the hedge
this afternoon at half-past five and I’ll tell you when I can play
tennis with you. Don’t forget!”
“I won’t,” called Cal, hurrying toward home and safety.
“You _do_ want me to play tennis, don’t you?” she called after him.
“Yes, indeed!” he shouted back. Then he plunged through West House gate
with a deep sigh of relief.