SWIMMING RACES
Before nine pairs of astonished eyes, the old man pulled off his curly
white beard and let it drop to the ground. He threw off his cap, turned
down the collar of his coat, and grinned pleasantly, a grin that
strongly reminded them of Fred Williamson when he was in mischief.
"Mr. Williamson!" cried Carrie, and:
"Dad!" Margy shouted together with Fred.
Mr. Williamson's eyes were dancing.
"Well?" he asked, enjoying the variety of expressions on the amazed
faces turned to his.
"It was a trick!" Carrie scolded. "I might have known. I suppose you
knew who he was all the time."
"I thought it was somebody like Mr. Williamson," said Mattie Helms.
"But of course I couldn't be sure."
Fred chuckled, for he had seen Mattie's face when his father removed
the beard. If there was ever a surprised girl, Mattie had been
surprised.
"You're mistaken, Carrie," said Mr. Williamson pleasantly. "No one knew
I was going to play a trick like this--least of all myself. But the
temptation to try and fool you all was too much; I couldn't resist it.
I went up to the house and got into these duds and raked out the beard
from Mrs. Meeker's attic. I think it must be a Hallowe'en trophy."
Carrie's face was red. She would have given anything to have acted
differently.
"By the way, Ella, I'll return this to you now. I don't need it, but
thank you for the kind little thought," said Mr. Williamson, handing
Ella a folded bill he took from the pocket of his coat.
It was Ella's turn to blush, and she did vividly.
"I didn't think you saw me," she said diffidently, putting the five
dollars back in her purse.
"I knew I was right," Fred said to himself, and when they covered the
fire and made ready to go home, he was the one to suggest that they all
walk to the hotel with Ella.
Ordinarily Fred troubled himself very little about social duties, and
he had been known to go to some trouble to avoid them.
After Ella had been left at the hotel--where her father was waiting
for her on the porch--Carrie and Mattie were escorted to the Helms'
bungalow and then the Riddle Club enjoyed a moonlight walk over the
deserted beach to their own comfortable cottage.
"Gee, Carrie never will get over the way you fooled us, Daddy," Fred
said to his father.
"I'm sorry if I hurt her feelings," declared Mr. Williamson seriously.
"It was all a joke."
Polly and Margy and Jess enjoyed talking things over the next day. They
were sure that Ella Mooney had had a happy time and really enjoyed the
party. When the next week a gracefully-worded little note, addressed to
Mrs. Marley, but including every one at Meeker Cottage by name, arrived
from Ella, the girls were made doubly sure.
"It was the nicest party I ever went to," wrote Ella. "And I told my
father every single thing that happened. I wrote it all down in my
diary, too, and some day I will show it to you."
The busy summer days marched along briskly after the beach party.
Captain Mooney had asked Mr. Williamson to bring the "young folks" over
to see Ella, but one thing and another conspired to put off the visit.
Once the Captain even sent his car, but the cottage was closed and
every one off on a picnic. Most of the time, the three fathers were at
River Bend, and when they were away the car left in the barn was almost
useless, since none of the mothers liked very much to run it.
Then, too, truth to tell, the members of the Riddle Club had always
been able to amuse themselves in perfect contentment without outside
influences. Perhaps, without knowing it, they had grown clannish.
They liked Ella more than a little, but they did not miss her, and so
Captain Mooney's invitation passed from their minds except when one of
the girls happened to recall it by saying:
"I suppose we ought to go and see Ella Mooney next week."
"What do you think!" said Artie one morning at the breakfast table. "I
met Albert Holmes, and Joe Anderson is coming down next week to stay
another two weeks."
"Now that," Fred remarked, reaching for another muffin, "is my idea of
good news! Do you know any more?"
"Yes, I do," the literal-minded Artie informed him. "There's going to
be swimming races, and I'm going in 'em."
Ward choked over his oatmeal and Fred stared.
"Why, you can't swim, Artie," said Jess, who was apt to speak frankly.
"Yes, I can. I can swim some," Artie insisted. "I started to learn at
Lake Bassing and I have learned some more here. The races are for
everybody and they have gold pieces for prizes and I'll put mine in the
Riddle Club fund."
He beamed upon them so generously, exactly, Fred said, as though he had
already deposited the gold piece in the bank, that it was impossible to
try to discourage him.
"But will such little boys go in the races, Artie?" Mrs. Marley asked
anxiously.
"Oh, of course, Mother. And I'm bigger than you think I am," her son
assured her.
"Is that why Joe Anderson came down?" demanded Margy. "He thinks he is
a fine swimmer."
"Now, children, I don't want to hear you begin and pick Joe Anderson to
pieces," Mrs. Larue announced half in earnest, half in fun. "I don't
think you realize it, but every time Carrie Pepper's name is mentioned,
or Joe Anderson's, some one is sure to think of an unkind comment and
make it."
"You mean we knock 'em?" said Fred slangily. "Well, all right, I am
afraid we do. Let's reform--but Joe Anderson is conceited; any one will
tell you that."
Mrs. Larue laughed and said she thought the habit was too strong to be
broken easily, but that she hoped they would try.
"We do talk rather--rather--well, you know," said Polly, when the
children found themselves alone on the porch. "I'm going to try not to
say a word about any one after this, unless it is something nice."
"Tell about the races, Artie," urged Jess. "When are they going to be
and where?"
Artie explained that the races were an annual affair, that people paid
to see them, and that the money was turned over to the life guards.
"Like a benefit," said Margy wisely.
There were "all kinds of classes," to quote Artie. The expert swimmers
swam for distance and speed and tried to establish records. There were
classes for beginners and for children under ten. There was a "novice"
class for those who had never tried to swim a stroke. There was a class
for fat swimmers. Artie suggested that Ward enter this.
"I'll bet it's a heap of fun," said Jess. "Lots of the swimming will
be a joke and people just go in it for a good time and to make money
for the life guards. I'll tell you what! Let's each one of us enter
something. One of us ought to get some kind of prize."
"If six of us go in, we must surely win something for the Riddle Club,"
added Fred.
They found the rules and regulations for the meet posted in the
post-office and an eager group studying them. As Jess had surmised, the
swimming itself was more or less of a joke, and the funnier spectacle
the swimmers made, the better the audience liked it. The prizes ranged
all the way from a ten dollar gold piece for the fastest time in the
expert class, to one dollar gold pieces for the children's events. A
charge of ten cents was made for each registration, and Artie was so
sure that he was going to capture a prize that he made Fred loan him
the ten cents and arranged that it was to be counted as his "dues" for
the next club meeting and not charged against him.
Ward, much against his will, was entered in the fat swimmer's class
for children. Margy, who had resolutely refused to learn to swim,
cheerfully entered the novice class. Polly and Fred were registered in
the boys' and girls' classes, for swimmers of their age. Artie cast his
lot with the youngest beginners, and Jess was to be in the floaters'
race.
"Captain Mooney gives the prizes every year," said Carrie Pepper, whom
they met as they were coming out of the post-office. "I'm going in and
so is Mattie. Are you?"
They said they were, and Carrie volunteered the information that Joe
Anderson expected to win the prize for the boys' class and that Albert
Holmes was going to float.
"I suppose Captain Mooney will be a judge--some one said he had
consented to serve this year," Carrie chattered on. "Have you seen Ella
lately?"
"No, Captain Mooney sent his car over for us, but we weren't home,"
said Margy, who no more could help saying that with an air than Carrie
could, had the opportunity been reversed.
"I could shake you, Margy Williamson!" Polly declared indignantly,
after they had left Carrie. "You sounded positively boastful."
"But I didn't say anything mean about Carrie, did I?" said Margy, with
obvious pride.
Until the day set for the swimming races, the Riddle Club practically
lived in the water. Their mothers united in making this statement. Of
course a certain amount of practice was necessary for all except Margy,
who would have disqualified herself by practice.
"But I hope you are not going to turn into ducks," said Mrs. Marley,
pretending to be anxious.
Margy, the neatest needlewoman of the three girls, took pains to see
that the letters on their suits were restitched tightly in place. She
said that she wanted every one to see "R.C." plainly and to ask what
it stood for.
[Illustration: "SHE'S WON!" JESS SHRIEKED OVER AND OVER.
_The Riddle Club at Sunrise Beach._ _Page 175_]
"They'll say, 'Who is that boy who just won the race? He has R.C. on
his shirt,'" said Artie.
"Artie, you mustn't set your heart on winning," Margy protested. "If
you lose, you'll feel dreadful."
"But I won't lose," Artie assured her, with a sunny smile.
The day for the races was bright and cloudless and the banks of the
inlet, where they were to be held, was crowded early in the afternoon
with spectators. All sat informally on the grass, and the pretty
dresses of the women and their bright-hued parasols made lovely
splashes of color.
"Say, Captain Mooney isn't going to be a judge," Carrie Pepper
announced, meeting Polly in the booth where the numbered badges that
identified the swimmers were being distributed. "That is, he was
supposed to be one of the judges, but they have just had word that he
can't be here."
"I wonder why," mused Polly absently. "Maybe Ella will come and see the
races."
"I haven't seen her," Carrie said. "There, they're signaling--we ought
to go and line up."
The races followed in quick succession, for there was rather a long
program to put through in the single afternoon allotted. One of the
summer residents captured the prize for the expert class, and then
there were four races for the older boys and girls in none of which the
Riddle Club was vitally interested.
But when it came to the race in which Polly was to compete, they
followed the event with closest attention. Polly was a fair swimmer,
and she did her best evenly and seriously. She came in third, and
finished with no other feeling than the one resolve that she would do
better the next year.
Fred found it harder to take his defeat at the hands of Joe Anderson.
If it had been any one else, he later told the others, he would not
have minded. It must be confessed that Joe made the most of his
opportunity to display his five dollar gold piece and he would brag a
little more than was becoming to the victor, but Fred set his teeth,
congratulated him, admired the prize, and set about encouraging Jess
and Margy and Artie.
"Fred always expects to win," Carrie Pepper remarked in his hearing. "I
guess he was surprised to find he can't come out ahead every time."
Carrie herself frankly said that she didn't mind losing as long as
Polly Marley had also lost. If there was one thing, declared Carrie,
she could not stand, it was to have the Riddle Club win any more
prizes.
"Even if Albert loses, we're ahead," she told Joe gleefully. "You have
five dollars and they haven't anything."
Carrie felt that Joe was upholding the honor of the Conundrum Club,
despite the fact that he announced loudly he meant to spend his prize
for himself.
The last events always attracted more attention and interest than the
more serious races. When the novices started off, they were loudly
cheered and the way they floundered and puffed and tried to run--at
least Margy did--through the water, moved the "gallery" to loud
laughter.
Margy, in her own way, was as determined as Artie, and, to gain her
end, she simply shut her eyes and forged ahead. She galloped, she trod
water, she pulled herself ahead with a sweeping motion. She sank, but
she came up again, shook the water from her face and struck out blindly
and doggedly.
"Go to it, little seal!" some one on the bank was roaring. "Go to
it--you can make it. Just a little farther! Jump, little seal, jump!"
Margy had no idea the man was shouting to her, but she took the advice
in good faith. Gathering the last ounce of energy she gave one
tremendous hop forward--and came in first, the shouts of the audience
ringing in her ears.
"She's won!" Jess shrieked over and over, jumping up and down. "Margy
won the race! Girls! boys! did you see her?"
Polly had seen her, but she had also heard something. Back in the crowd
a woman's voice was raised in excitement.
"Have you heard about Ella Mooney?" she was asking.