DAN LARKIN REMEMBERS
Dan Larkin was a character. He stood behind the little counter of his
traveling store, sleeves rolled up to display sinewy forearms, small,
good-humored eyes twinkling out from masses of puffy flesh, and a derby
hat set rakishly on the back of his grizzled head.
He looked from the bill in Billie’s hand to Billie’s face and shook his
head waggishly.
“You oughtn’t to startle an old feller like that,” he said. “I ain’t
sure where I got that bill, young lady--let’s see, it’s a five dollar
one, ain’t it? But one thing’s certain--I come by it honest!”
“I don’t doubt it,” replied Billie, smiling engagingly. “Anyone would
know you were honest, just to look at you.”
“Would they now!” exclaimed the old man delightedly. “That’s the best
news I’ve heard in a powerful long time. I _am_ honest you know--as the
day!”
“I’m sure of it,” Billie repeated. “Mr. Larkin,” pushing the bill
toward him again, “won’t you please look at this again closely and
tell me if you don’t notice anything strange about it?”
“Hm!” said the old man, giving her an extraordinarily shrewd glance
from his little, good-humored eyes. “Important, is it?”
“Oh, very, very important!” said Billie.
She waited in an agony of impatience, of mingled hope and fear, while
the old man removed one pair of spectacles and replaced them by
another. Taking the bill in his hand he peered intently at it.
“A five dollar bill, eh--_with_ a blot on it,” he ruminated. “Now,
what’s to be made of that?”
For a long moment he appeared lost in thought, then, with a gesture of
regret, pushed the bill across the counter toward Billie.
“Sorry I don’t seem to recollect----” Then, as Billie’s fingers reached
for the bill: “Whoa there! Hold your horses! Sure, I know who give
me that five dollars with the spot onto it.” The blue eyes twinkled
and danced at Billie from between mounds of flesh. “’Twas Mrs. Maria
Tatgood. That’s who ’twas!”
The interior of that quaint place reeled before Billie. She clung to
the counter and heard her voice say faintly, joyfully:
“Has--has Mrs. Maria Tatgood been buying much of you lately?”
“Ho! That’s a queer question! But I’ll answer it honestly. That’s my
way. Now you come to speak of it, Mrs. Tatgood has been buying quite a
lot of me lately.”
“More than she used to?” Billie persisted.
“Quite a good deal more.” The small eyes beamed and danced at her.
“Yes, I should say she’s buying quite a good deal more than usual these
days. Which is gratifying to an old chap who has to make his living
trundling a store about on wheels. Ain’t it, now?”
Billie agreed that it was and, reminded of her own deep obligation to
Dan Larkin, she emulated the good example of Mrs. Tatgood and bought
several things of him, all of which she could have done very well
without.
Scarcely able to believe in her good fortune, Billie returned as
quickly as possible to Three Towers Hall. All during the ride in the
street car she debated the question as to whether it would be wise to
confide her extraordinary news to Laura and Vi.
“Not just yet,” was her decision. “Monday and Tuesday are the days of
the tennis tournament. I’ll wait till after that. Meantime,” imitating
Mr. Dan Larkin, “I’ll keep my eyes open. Oh, won’t I just!”
The next day Billie went about radiating so much joyfulness that her
chums were curious. Some of them even went so far as to be suspicious.
“Billie Bradley looks like the cat who has just swallowed the canary,”
said Jessie Brewer. “I wonder,” musingly, “if she _could_ have had a
hand in the disappearance of that Gift Club money!”
“Don’t be a goose!” said her companion shortly. “Billie Bradley would
never steal anything!”
However, the seed of doubt had been planted, and it grew!
Toward the end of the long pleasant Sunday, Billie’s mood of optimism
began to wane somewhat. After all, argued the still, small voice of her
pessimism, even though she had turned up a red-hot clue, what right
had she to believe that she would be able to follow it through to a
successful conclusion? It was not a very convincing clue, she told
herself, and she was not very experienced in running down clues or
trails of any kind.
If only to-morrow were not the beginning of the tennis tournament! If
only--if only----
That night Laura and Vi worked over Billie’s knee, rubbing, massaging,
as earnest in their ministrations as any professional trainer.
“I think it will do now,” said Billie, at last. “Thanks so much, girls.”
“But how does the knee feel?” Laura insisted.
“All right, most of the time. Then once in a while when I least expect
it, it grows a peculiar kink. I can’t quite explain it, but suddenly
all the strength goes out of it and I feel as though I’d either have to
sit down or take a nose dive. Never mind!” smiling at their serious
faces, “let’s hope it will last through to-morrow. That’s all I ask of
it!”
“That’s all you ask of it, yes,” grumbled Vi. “But that’s an awful lot
to ask of a weak knee, Billie. I’m worried about it. If you’d only
kept off of it this past week or two, it might be all right now. As it
is--why, don’t you know that this tournament is important?”
“Don’t I know that this tournament is important! Of course I know!
Don’t be silly, Vi.” Then, seeing that Vi looked a little hurt, she
went on: “Oh, I’m sorry, honey. But don’t worry. It’ll turn out all
right.”
Next day dawned gloomily, with more than a hint of rain in the sky.
However, by ten o’clock the sun had come out to stay, the air was crisp
and cool--ideal tennis weather.
Almost the entire student body of Three Towers flocked out upon the
grounds. Lessons were suspended for the two days of the tournament. The
teachers often came to watch a spirited match. It was not unusual for
Miss Walters herself to occupy a camp chair close to the courts during
the finals.
Billie crashed through the elimination sets, crushing her opponents
without mercy.
“There she goes!” cried Vi, gnawing the ends of her fingers in her
excitement. “6--0, 6--2, 6--0. Rose is down, and she waves a wicked
racket, too. Oh, boy, there’s nobody can stand before Billie to-day!”
“Amanda Peabody is doing just as well. I never saw such pretty work in
my life. She seems to be top form.”
Vi turned toward the quiet voice and saw Ray Carew standing beside her.
She regarded the girl steadily for a long moment.
“Sounds to me as if you were rooting for Amanda, Ray. Are you?”
Rachael had the grace to flush. She avoided Vi’s direct glance.
“No,” she said, and in a moment walked over to join a friend.
When Vi turned again to watch Billie’s smashing service, her clever
backhand, her choppy, certain net-work, the enthusiasm she had felt
before was definitely overshadowed.
“Billie is just throwing away everything she has gained here by
sticking to that wretched Edina Tooker. I can’t think what she sees in
the girl. I never liked her, anyway--not from the very first!”
When Billie limped from the courts after a day of smashing victories,
having reached the finals with a defeat of only one game, her first
words were of praise for her adversaries.
“They were all good fighters and game losers,” she cried, her eyes
shining. “Oh, what a day--what a marvelous day! Where’s Laura?”
“Here! I just stopped to lace my shoe.”
“You’ve reached the finals, too, haven’t you? Marvelous! We’ll double
against Amanda and Eliza to-morrow.”
“But, Billie, how is your knee?”
“Gracious! I haven’t had time to think of it. Now you mention it,” with
an experimental wriggle of the injured member, “it does hurt a little.
Nothing to speak of, though. Oh, what a day!”
Next day, the great day of the finals, dawned bright and clear,
though with a hint of rain which no one took note of on the western
horizon. By ten o’clock the ring about the courts was packed solid with
spectators.
Billie, warming up her service with Laura, vainly searched the ring of
faces for Edina Tooker.
“Hiding up in the dormitory, eating her heart out, poor kid,” thought
Billie, and dubbed her ball into the net.
“Hey, Billie!” Laura shouted. “Stop your daydreaming and send me the
ball. I can’t pose for the Statue of Liberty all day. My arm waxeth
weary.”
For revenge Billie patted a ball neatly over her head. Laura swung
wildly for it and missed, while a ripple of merriment swept the
audience.
“All right for you,” called Laura, good-naturedly. “I’ll get even with
you yet!”
Soon after that the real business of the day commenced.
Billie in the singles, Billie and Laura in the doubles, swiftly
eliminated all their adversaries except Amanda Peabody and Eliza Dilks.
Then these two girls went down to a decided but in no sense ignominious
defeat before the combined powers of Billie and Laura.
When Billie at last faced Amanda Peabody for the last and deciding
match of the tournament, an audible sigh broke from the spectators.
“Now,” said Rose Belser, “we are about to see something!”
“It will be a battle of the century,” predicted Connie Danvers.
On the courts Billie waved good-naturedly to Amanda.
“Your serve,” she called. “Ready?”