TROUBLE
Jessie was beginning to learn that to guard the welfare of a lively
youngster like Henrietta was no small task. The worst of it was, she
was so fond of the little girl that she worried about her much of the
time. And Henrietta seemed to have a penchant for getting into trouble.
Jessie called, and she called again and again, as she ploughed through
the sand, and heard in reply only the shrieks of the gulls and peewees.
Gray clouds had rolled up from the Western horizon and covered
completely the glow of sunset. It was going to be a drab evening, and
all the hollows were already filled with shadow.
Jessie toiled up the slope of one sand-hill after another, calling and
listening, calling and listening, but all to no avail. What _could_
have become of Henrietta Haney?
Suddenly Jessie fairly tumbled into an excavation in the sand. Although
she could not see the place, her hands told her that the hole was deep
and the sand somewhat moist. The hole had been dug recently, for the
surface of the dunes was still warm from the rays of the sun.
She stumbled down the slope of the sand dune and found another hole,
then another. Dark as it was in the hollow, when she kicked something
that rattled, she knew what it was.
"Henrietta's pail and shovel!" Jessie exclaimed aloud. "She has been
here."
She picked up the articles. Before leaving New Melford she had herself
bought the pail and shovel for the freckle-faced little girl.
Where had the child gone from here? Already Jessie was some distance
from the group of bungalows. As Henrietta insisted upon believing that
most of the island belonged to her "by good rights," there was no
telling what part of it she might have aimed for after playing in the
sand.
Jessie shouted again, her voice wailing over the sands almost as
mournfully as the cries of the sea-fowl. Again and again she shouted,
but without hearing a human sound in reply. She labored on, and it grew
so dark that she began to wish one of the others had come with her.
Even Amy's presence would have been a comfort.
She came to the brink of a yawning sand-pit, the bottom of which was so
dark she could not see it. She began skirting this hollow, crying out
as she went, and almost in tears.
Suddenly Darry's voice answered her. She was fond of Darry--thought him
a most wonderful fellow, in fact. But there was just one thing Jessie
wanted of him now.
"Have you seen her?" she cried.
"Not a bit. I have been away down to the lighthouse. Nobody has seen
her there."
"Oh! Who you lookin' for?" suddenly asked a voice out of the darkness.
"Henrietta!" shrieked Jessie, and plunged down into the dark sand-pit.
"Who's lost?" asked the little girl again. "Ow-ow! I--I guess I been
asleep, Miss Jessie."
"Has that kid shown up at last?" grumbled Darry, climbing to the sand
ridge.
"Is it night?" demanded Henrietta, as Jessie clasped her with an energy
that betrayed her relief. "Why, it wasn't dark when I came down here."
"How did you get down there?" demanded Darry from above.
"I rolled down. I guess I was tired. I dug so much sand----"
"Did you dig all those holes I found, Henrietta?" demanded the relieved
Jessie.
"Why, no, Miss Jessie. I didn't dig holes. I dug sand and let the holes
be," declared the freckle-faced little girl scornfully.
Darry sat down and laughed, but while he laughed Jessie toiled up the
yielding sand hill with her hand clasping Henrietta's. "Ow-ow!" yawned
the child again. "When do we eat, Miss Jessie? Or is eating all over?"
"Listen to the kid!" ejaculated Darry. "Here! Give her to me. I'll
carry her. Want to go pickaback, Hen?"
"Well, it's dark and nobody can see us. I don't mind," said Henrietta
soberly. "But I guess I'm too big to be lugged around that way in
common. 'Specially now that I own this island--or, most of it--and am
going to have money of my own."
"She's harping on that idea too much," observed Darry to Jessie, in a
low tone.
The latter thought so too. Funny as little Henrietta was, the stressing
of her expected fortune was going to do her no good. Jessie began to
see that this fault had to be corrected.
"Goodness!" she thought, stumbling along after the young collegian and
his burden, "I might as well have a younger sister to take care of.
Children, as Mrs. Foley says, are a sight of trouble."
They heard Amy and Burd shouting back of the bungalow, and they
responded to their cries.
"Did you find that young Indian?" cried Burd.
"You've hit it. This little squaw should be named 'Plenty Trouble'
rather than 'Spotted Snake, the Witch.'"
"Why," said Henrietta, sleepily, "_I_ never have any trouble--of course
I don't."
It was about as Jessie said, however: They were never confident that
the freckled little girl was all right save when she was asleep. She
had bread and milk and went right to bed when they got home with her.
Then the evening was a busy one for the quartette of older young folks.
The radio set was put into place in the library of the bungalow. They
had brought the two-step amplifier and proposed to use that for most
of their listening in, rather than the head-phones. Although Darry and
Burd helped in this preliminary work, the girls really knew more about
the adjustment of the various parts than the college youths.
But in the morning Darry and Burd strung the wires and completed the
antenna. The house connection was made and the ground connection. By
noon all was complete and after lunch Jessie opened the switch and
they got the wave-length of a New York broadcasting station and heard
a brief concert and a lecture on advertising methods that did not, in
truth, greatly interest the girls.
After that they tuned in and caught the Stratfordtown broadcasting.
They recognized Mr. Blair's voice announcing the numbers of the
afternoon concert program.
But radio did not hold the attention of these young people all the
time, although they had all become enthusiasts. They were at the
seashore, and there were a hundred things to do that they could not do
at home in Roselawn. The sands were smooth, the surf rolled in while
ruffles, and the cool green and blue of the sea was most attractive.
One of the safest bathing beaches bordering Station Island was directly
in front of the bungalow colony.
At four o'clock they were all in their bathing suits and joined the
company already in the surf or along the sands. In any summer colony
acquaintanceships are formed rapidly. Jessie and Amy had already seen
some girls of about their own age whom they liked the looks of, and
they were glad to see them again at the bathing hour.
"Is it a perfectly safe beach?" Mrs. Norwood asked, and was assured
by her husband that so it was rated. There were no strong currents or
undertows along this shore. And, in any case, there was a lifeguard in
a boat just off shore and another patrolling the sands.
"I ain't afraid!" proclaimed Henrietta, dashing into the water
immediately. "Come on, Miss Jessie! Come on, Miss Amy, you won't get
drowned at my island."
"What a funny little thing she is," said one of the friendly girls who
overheard Henrietta. "Does she think she owns Station Island?"
"That is exactly what she does think," said Amy, grimly.
"I never!" drawled the girl. "And there is a girl up at the hotel who
talks the same way. At least, when she was down here yesterday she said
her father owns all this part of Station Island and is going to have
the bungalows torn down."
Jessie and Amy looked at each other with understanding.
"I guess I know who that girl is," said Amy quickly. "It's Belle
Ringold."
"Yes. Her name is Ringold," said their new acquaintance. "Do you
suppose it is so--that her father can drive us all out of the cottages?
You know, we have already paid rent for the season."