OLD FRIENDS
Jean, Dan and Gerald had gone at once to the corral with the four horses
they had ridden and were still there (for Jean had much to show his
guests) when the car arrived, and so the excitement was quite over when
they at last sauntered around one corner of the porch.
There were four in the party of autoists, Mr. and Mrs. Robert Starr,
Marion, and Bob, her young brother.
Jane at once took Merry to her room, while Julie accepted Meg's
invitation to wander about the gardens and make the acquaintance of the
flowers. Mr. Packard had just returned from showing Mr. and Mrs. Starr to
the guest room when the boys appeared. Bob Starr had lingered to look
over the car, which was the pride of his heart, and so it was that he
first met Jean, Dan and Gerald. Jean proved himself an expert mechanic,
as was also Mr. Packard, and they promised the lad that directly after
lunch they would assist him in putting his car in the best of shape.
Meanwhile Jane and Merry were telling each other all that had happened
since last they had met.
"I simply can't understand it in the least," Jane declared for the tenth
time. "To think that you deliberately gave up the opportunity to spend a
whole summer in Newport to undergo the hardships of a cross-country motor
trip."
Merry dropped down in a deep easy chair and laughed happily. "Oh, I've
loved it! Every hour of the trip has been fascinating. Of course I'm
mighty glad Mr. Packard saved our lives, but even that was exciting."
"But wasn't your Aunt Belle terribly disappointed?"
"Why, no; not at all. There are steens of us in the Starr family. She
just invited some other girl cousins. Aunt Belle is never so happy as
when she is surrounded with gay young girls. Then, moreover, Esther
Ballard couldn't go. Her artist father had planned a tramping trip
through Switzerland as a surprise for her and Barbara Morris decided to
accompany them; so you and I would have been quite alone at Newport. But
do tell me who is the girl to whom you introduced me when I first
arrived? She is beautiful, isn't she?"
Jane surely had changed in the past week, for her reply was sincere and
even enthusiastic. "Merry, that girl is more than beautiful. She is
wonderful! I want you to know her better. She has saved me from myself."
Then she laughingly arose, holding out both hands to assist her friend to
her feet. "If you are rested, dear, come out on the porch. I want you to
meet the nicest, well, almost the nicest boy I have ever known."
Merry glanced up roguishly. "Are congratulations in order?"
Jane flushed prettily, though she protested: "You know they are not,
Marion Starr! Romance is as far from my thoughts today as it ever was,
but next to Dan, I do like Jean best."
"Well, I certainly am curious to meet this paragon of a youth." Merry
gave her friend's waist a little affectionate hug, then said: "I have a
pretty nice brother of my own. He ought to be ready by now to be
presented to my best friend." Together they went toward the front door.
"I know Bob must be nice," Jane agreed, "since he is your twin."
The girls appeared on the porch just as the boys had completed an
inspection of the machine and so Jane's "paragon," with a smudge of
grease on one cheek and smeared hands, laughingly begged Merry to pardon
his inability to remove his hat. Before Marion could reply, her brother
led her aside and talked rapidly and in a low voice, then returning he
said in his pleasing manner: "Miss Abbott, you will pardon any seeming
lack of courtesy on my part when I tell you there was something very
important which I wished to say to my sister, and there is no time like
the present, you know."
Merry laughingly interrupted: "And now that you have made that long
speech to Jane, it would be sort of an anti-climax, would it not, for me
to formally introduce you? However, Jane, this is my wayward young
brother Bob, whom I am endeavoring to bring up the way that he should
go." Jane held out a slim white hand, but, although she said just the
right thing, her thoughts were busy. Something had happened that she did
not understand.
Mrs. Starr rested that afternoon in one of the comfortable reclining
chairs on the wide front porch. Mr. Starr was most interested in all that
Mr. Packard had to show him, while the young people went for a horseback
ride in merry cavalcade. Bob Starr was eager to see the washout, and
decide for himself what chance of escape they might have had. Julie was
overjoyed that this time she also might accompany the riders. A small
spotted pony was chosen for her, as it was a most reliable little
creature--sure-footed and gentle.
For a while Jane and Merry rode side by side, then Bob and Jean Sawyer,
who for some time had ridden far back of the others, galloped up and rode
alongside of the two girls, Bob next to Jane and Jean close to Merry.
There was a pang in the dark girl's heart. She had noticed several times
at lunch that Jean had glanced across at Marion Starr and had smiled at
her when their eyes met. But the trail soon became too rough to permit
four to ride abreast, and so Jean called: "Miss Starr, suppose you and I
ride ahead and set the pace."
Marion smiled at her friend. "That will give you and Bob a chance to
become better acquainted," she said, then urged her horse to a gallop,
and away they went, Jean and Merry, laughing happily, and yet when they
had quite outdistanced the rest, Jane noted that they rode more slowly
and close together, as though in serious converse.
"They surely are becoming acquainted very rapidly," the girl thought
miserably. She had not realized until now how very much Jean Sawyer's
admiration had meant to her. Suddenly she felt so alone and looked back
to find the brother who had always cared so much for her, but he also was
completely engrossed in another girl, for Meg had dismounted to examine
some growth by the trail, and Dan, standing at her side, was listening,
as he gazed into her dusky eyes, with great evident interest. Jane
sighed.
"I deserve it all," she thought. "I have not been lovable, and so why
should I expect to be loved?"
"Jean Sawyer seems to be a mighty fine chap," her companion was saying.
"Is he overseer of this cattle ranch?"
"Yes, I understand that is the position he fills," Jane said, feeling
suddenly very weary, and wishing that she could ride back to the ranch
house. A fortnight before she would have done so, but now a thought for
the happiness of others came to prevent such a selfish decision, for, of
course, if Jane turned back, some of the others would also, for the lads
were too chivalrous to permit her to ride alone. Bob, glancing at her,
decided that she was not interested in his companionship, but for Merry's
sake he made one more effort at friendly conversation.
"I do not suppose, though, that so fine a chap and one so capable will
remain forever in the position of an employee," he ventured. "Do you know
where he hails from?"
"No, I do not," Jane replied. Then wishing to change the subject, she
pointed toward a hill over which one lone vulture was swinging in wide
circles. "There is the washout!" Merry and Jean were galloping back
toward them.
The girl rode up to Jane as she said with a shudder: "Oh, I don't want to
go any closer! When I saw that wicked looking vulture and heard why he is
circling there I could picture all too plainly what _would_ have happened
if we had been killed and----"
It was seldom that Merry was so overcome. "Jane, do you mind riding back
with me?" she pleaded. "I want to go to my mother."
And so the two girls turned back toward the ranch house. They assured the
others that they did not mind going alone. Jane noticed that Merry said
nothing of the conversation that she had had with Jean Sawyer; in fact,
she did not mention his name and neither did Jane. When they reached the
ranch house Merry ran up the steps, and kneeling, she held her mother
close. That sweet-faced woman smoothed the sunny hair of the girl she so
loved, marveling at the unusual emotion, but when her daughter told her
how much more vividly she could picture their escape, after she had seen
the washout, and the vulture, the older woman understood. Jane, watching
her friend, felt that something more than a view of the road where there
might have been a tragedy was affecting her dearest friend, nor was she
wrong.
Mr. Packard prevailed upon Mrs. and Mr. Starr to remain as his guests for
at least another day, that the mother of Merry and Bob might become
thoroughly rested before the return journey to the East, which was to be
made by train, the automobile to be shipped back.
"O, Mrs. Starr, how I do wish you would permit Merry and Bob to visit us
in our cabin on Redfords Peak," Jane said when this decision had been
reached. "Couldn't they stay until we return East next month?"
Mrs. Starr looked inquiringly at her husband, but it was Merry who
replied. "Not quite that long, dear," she said, slipping an arm about her
friend. "I very much want to be in New York on September the first."
Just why she glanced quickly up at Jean Sawyer, a pretty flush tinting
her cheeks, Jane could not understand. There was an actual pain in her
heart, and she caught her breath quickly before she could reply in a
voice that sounded natural: "Well, then, at least you and Bob can remain
with us for two weeks and that will be better than not at all."
The selfish side of Jane's nature was saying to her: "Why urge Merry to
remain, when, if she were to go, you could have Jean Sawyer's
companionship all to yourself?" But Jane had indeed changed, for she put
the thought away from her as unworthy, and gave her friend a little
affectionate hug when Mrs. Starr said that the plan was quite agreeable
to her.
"Good! That's great!" Dan declared warmly. Then he excused himself, for
he saw Meg Heger returning with Julie from a "botany expedition" in the
foothills.
The mountain girl smiled up at him in her frank way when he ran down the
garden path toward them. "Have you news to tell us?" she inquired.
"You're looking wonderfully well these days, Daniel Abbott. I do not
believe that your lungs were affected, after all."
"Indeed, they were not!" The boy whirled to walk at Meg's side, and as
she smiled up at him in her good comradeship way, he was almost impelled
to add, "But my heart is." Instead, he laughed boyishly, and took the
basket of specimens that the girl carried. Peeping under the cover, he
exclaimed: "Why, if you haven't taken them up, root and all."
Meg nodded joyfully. "Wasn't it nice of Mr. Packard to tell me that I
might transplant them to my own botany gardens. Aren't they the most
exquisite star-like flowers and the most delicate pinks and blues?" Then,
when the cover had been replaced, Meg lifted long-lashed, dusky eyes that
were more serious. "Dan, do you suppose Jane would mind if I went home
this afternoon? Think of it, in another fortnight I will be going to
Scarsburg to take the entrance examinations for the normal, and kind old
Teacher Bellows is giving me some special review work which I cannot
afford to miss."
"If you return, I will also," the lad said; then, when he saw that his
companion was about to protest, he hurriedly added: "Not because you need
my protection, but because I _wish_ to be with you."
Meg gave no outward sign of having understood the deep underlying meaning
of the words that she had heard, but the warmth in her heart assured her
that she was glad, glad that Dan wanted to accompany her.
Gerald came bounding toward them, dressed still in his fringed cowboy
suit. "Say, kids," he shouted inelegantly, then looked rather sheepishly
at Julie, as though he expected one of her grandmotherly rebukes, but
hearing none, he blurted on: "We're going to have a corn and potato roast
for supper tonight. Won't that be high jinks, though? Mr. Packard has a
barbecue pit on the other side of the little lake. Oh. boy!" he
continued, rubbing the spot where the feast would eventually be. "You bet
you I'll be there with bells!" Then, catching Julie by the hand, he raced
with her to the corral, where they liked to look over the log fence at
the horses and colts in the enclosure.
Dan smiled down at his companion. "Let us wait until morning and start at
sunrise, shall we?" he suggested. "If we go this afternoon, our host
might think that we do not appreciate his plans for our entertainment."
Meg agreed willingly, little dreaming that so slight an incident was to
make a vital change in her hitherto uneventful life.