The Beldings lived in a nice house on Whiffle Street, with quite a big
plot of ground about it--room for a lawn in front, a tennis court at the
side, and a garden in the rear, out of which a rustic gate opened into
the street where the Hargrews lived. Mr. Belding owned the house and,
with his business as jeweler, was considered, as fortunes went in
Centerport, a wealthy man. But the family lived with old-fashioned
simplicity.
Mrs. Belding was, Laura knew, just the dearest mother who ever lived;
yet she had been brought up as a girl in a country community, had never
had interests any broader than her own home while her children were
small, and now that Laura and Chetwood were almost "grown up"--or, at
least, _felt_ they were--Mother Belding scarcely understood their plans
and aspirations. The new organization was "too much" for her, as she
frequently said.
"Why, how ridiculous!" Mrs. Belding once said, upon coming home from a
shopping tour. "They show me exactly the same style of garment both for
Laura and myself. No difference save the size, I declare! And at Laura's
age I had not even begun to put my hair up, and my skirts had not been
lengthened."
"Changes--changes! Don't let them worry you, Mother," said her husband,
comfortably.
"Well, Milly and Frank are left us, anyway--they're still children,"
sighed the troubled lady. "But I must admit that Laura and Chet are too
much for me!"
Not that either of her older children gave her real cause for worriment
or complaint. Chet was his father's chum and confidant; he could not go
far wrong under such guidance. And Laura was a very sweet tempered and
practical girl. Indeed, it was Laura's shrewd outlook upon and her keen
appreciation of things that had never entered her mother's mind as a
girl, that so startled Mrs. Belding.
At supper that night Chet was full of the ball game that his father and
he had attended that afternoon.
"Well, the East High fellows beat the West High boys, just as everybody
said they would. They've got the battery--Hanks and Doolittle--and
Merryweather and Ted Doyle are some punkins with the stick. Why, Ted is
a bear-cat! But I believe we Central High fellows can put up a game that
will hold them for a while. I want to see Central High win the pennant
this year."
"What is a battery?" sighed his mother. "Why 'punkins' and 'stick'? Is
this Ted you speak of really a subject for side-show exhibition, or are
you 'nature-faking' when you call him a 'bear-cat'? And why should the
playing of you and your friends at baseball, Chetwood, 'hold them' for
any length of time? Please elucidate?"
Laura and the younger children burst out laughing, and the older
daughter said:
"English _is_ a funny language, isn't it?"
"The American brand of it is," said Mr. Belding, who was also smiling.
"That is not English," remarked the mother, with scorn. "Such
expressions have no relation to good English. But I grant you that the
slang language is very funny, indeed."
"Aw, mother, the trouble with you is you don't understand athletics.
Every game has its own technical phrases, so to speak. You ask Laura to
explain. I hear Central High girls are going in for 'em. Going to
compete for all honors with the other schools, eh, Laura?"
"We hope to," returned his sister.
"How did the meeting go, daughter?" asked Mr. Belding, with interest.
Laura recited the work accomplished. "Of course," she said, "we shall
found our association on the constitution of the Girls' Branch Athletic
Association. Then we can compete for trophies with inter-county and
inter-state teams, as well as with the local teams. Mrs. Case says that
there will be an association at both Lumberport and Keyport."
"Do you approve of all this disturbance about girls' athletics, James?"
asked Mrs. Belding.
"It's for after-hours. It won't interfere with their school work. It
can't, in fact," said the jeweler, "for only those pupils who stand well
in both their studies and in deportment can take part."
"And poor Bobby!" cried Laura, suddenly. "It does seem as though she was
fated to have bad luck. She won't be able to join, even if Miss
Carrington has her way," and she told the family about the fire in the
principal's office.
"A very careless girl," said Mrs. Belding, yet not sternly, for she
loved jolly, harum-scarum Bobby Hargrew.
"You were a brave kid, Laura, to think of the water bowl," said Chet,
with enthusiasm.
"I object, Chetwood!" exclaimed his mother. "Neither your father nor I
are caprine, hollow-horned ruminants. Your sister, therefore, cannot be
a 'kid.'"
"Oh, Mother!" complained Chet. "You won't let a fellow talk."
"I would much prefer to hear a young gentleman converse," returned Mrs.
Belding, though smiling. "And I agree with you that our Laura is both
brave and quick-witted."
"She'll get along in the world," said Mr. Belding, with a satisfied
smile. "But I'm sorry Tom Hargrew's girl is in trouble."
"Of course, I haven't seen her since Miss Carrington sent her home,"
Laura said. "Nobody has heard her side of the story."
"Of course, she set the papers afire," Chet observed.
"It seems impossible that it could be otherwise. Thoughtless child!"
said their mother.
"But I want to wait and hear Bobby's story. If she says she didn't, and
_knows_ she didn't, I shall believe her," spoke Laura.
"You will not take circumstantial evidence into consideration, then?"
laughed her father.
"Not against Bobby's word," returned Laura, confidently. "Bobby just
couldn't tell a falsehood. It isn't in her. That is why she so often
gets into trouble in school. She cannot even _act_ deceit."
"Short and Long is like that," said Chet. "And _he's_ going to be barred
from athletics if he doesn't have a care. We would be in a mess if we
lost our shortstop. Old Dimple----"
"Professor Dimp, you refer to?" interjected his mother.
"Oh, yes!" sighed Chet. "He can't take a joke. And Billy is full of
them. Yesterday he got into trouble with Dimple--er--Professor Dimp. The
professor had written something on the board--I forget the sentence; but
it had the word 'whether' in it. Billy read it as though it was
'weather.' 'Ha!' snapped Dimple in his very nastiest way, 'how do you
spell "weather," Master Long?'
"Of course, Short and Long saw his mistake right off, and drawled:
"'W-i-a-t-h-i-a-r.'
"'Sit down! You've given us the worst spell of weather we've had this
spring. Recitation zero,' snaps Dimple. Now, wasn't that mean--for just a
little joke?"
"It seems to me," said his father, "that the professor had the best of
the joke. There's some wit to that Professor Dimp, after all. And your
friend, Billy, is too old for childish pranks, even if he is such a
little fellow."
The topic of the girls' athletics and the new association was discussed
in many homes in Centerport that evening. Nor was it tabooed from
conversation on Sunday. By Monday morning, when the pupils of Central
High gathered for classes, the girls, at least, were in a buzz of
excitement. But they had an added topic of interest, too. The fire in
the principal's office on Saturday afternoon was much discussed.
Laura and Jess, with some of the other girls, surrounded Bobby Hargrew
the moment she appeared.
"Did you do it on purpose?"
"What are they going to do about it?"
"Is Mr. Sharp awfully mad?"
"Is Gee Gee going to have you expelled?"
These and other questions were fired at Bobby in a volley.
"Hold on! Wait! Help! I'm down!" squealed Bobby. "Give me a chance to
answer."
"Well, tell us!" commanded Jess.
"I'll tell you; but half of you won't believe me," said Bobby, rather
sullenly. "And that is the way it stands with the faculty. They don't
believe me."
"Why, Bobby! I shall certainly believe what you say if you are positive
in your statement," declared Laura Belding.
"All right. I'll put you to the test. _I did not set that fire!_"
The girls, for the most part, looked blank. Some of them whispered
together. Laura only said:
"You're sure?"
"Pos-i-tive!"
"But the burning punk----?"
"Think I'd chuck it in that basket?" demanded Bobby, scornfully.
"Maybe you thought you put it out?"
"Maybe nothing! I know. I carried that punk out and threw it in the
gutter."
"But a spark from it might have fallen in the basket?" said Jess,
weakly.
"No, ma'am! I wasn't near the basket. I was at the other end of the desk
when Gee Gee caught me," said Bobby, firmly. "Either I did, or I didn't.
I say I didn't set that fire."
"Then I believe you, dear," said Laura, suddenly hugging the smaller
girl.
"Thanks, Laura. You always were a good sport," said Bobby, having hard
work to keep back the tears. "But Gee Gee won't believe me, and if I
don't own up to what I didn't do, she says she will 'take it up with Mr.
Sharp.' You know what _that_ means. I'll likely have to leave
school--although good old Dad has already paid for the damage done, and
bought new goldfish."