Sim
Miles away from Cedar Ridge, Sim Westover idly turned the pages of a
movie magazine. She was quite pleased with herself as she sat in a
commuters' train, speeding toward Larchmont. It was dark now, and as Sim
looked from the window her face was reflected in the glass as in a dull
mirror. Just a hint of a shiny nose, but it was enough to cause her to
open her envelope bag and search for her compact.
But what were those white envelopes?
Surely she hadn't forgotten to leave that carefully composed note for the
dean--and the one to Arden and Terry!
Yes, she had forgotten!
"My word! They'll be worried to death!" Sim whispered in a gasp of
dismay. "What a stupid thing to do! Write notes explaining everything and
then take them with me!"
Sim settled herself deeper into the soft green plush of the seat and
looked helplessly at the envelopes bearing the imposing red and gold seal
of the Chancellor Hotel. She could imagine Terry and Arden dashing madly
about asking everywhere for her. And she had intended to leave the note
right where they would see it--on the bed near her packed bag.
"Oh," mused Sim, "if only they don't do anything rash, such as notifying
the police or phoning to my folks!"
The adventure she had planned to be such a fine thing was fast losing its
savor.
Suppose her father was not in Larchmont, after all? But he must be. In
his last letter to Sim he had mentioned, casually, this trip which was a
reason why he couldn't be in New York to greet her at the tea dance. He
would be in Larchmont.
It had seemed such a fine idea, when Sim learned the sophomores had not
made the amount of money necessary even to start the repairs on the
swimming pool, just to go to her father and ask him for it. It would be
such a fine thing for the college, and Sim really must do some swimming.
She felt that she was entitled to it after coming to Cedar Ridge, having
seen the pictures of the pool in the prospectus.
The others were dancing as Sim's grand idea was engendered within her,
and it seemed too bad to interrupt them. Besides, Arden would, very
probably, try to stop her. The simplest thing would be just to write the
notes, explaining, and go ahead.
The desk clerk at the hotel told her, when she asked, that she had
fifteen minutes to get a train for Larchmont from the Grand Central
Station. Sim was so glad she had remembered her father had written he was
to be there for the week-end at the Newman home--planning another large
branch store for business expansion.
"Oh, dear! What a fix to be in! I suppose I'll be expelled! Mother will
feel terribly bad, and Dad----Oh, dear!" Sim sighed aloud.
But there was nothing she could do now. There were the forgotten letters
which would have made everything all right. She had hurried up to the
room, slipping away from the dance, had written the notes, put them in
her bag, and changed her dress. She intended leaving them just before
going out of the room. But a glance at the electric clock showed her
there was little time to catch a taxi for the Grand Central in time to
make the train, and in her haste----
The train ran along smoothly. The clickety-click of the wheels over the
rail joints mocked Sim with their ever recurring:
"Forgot! Forgot! Forgot!"
She grew more upset and worried. She pulled back her coat sleeve and
glanced at her wrist watch.
Nine o'clock!
By this time the girls would be taking the train for Morrisville. What
had they done about her disappearance? Sim hated to think about it. This
was, indeed, the deepest hole she had ever been in.
The conductor opened the door and shouted:
"Larch-_mont_! _Larch_-mont! All out for LARCH-MONT!"
Sim gathered her things together and prepared to leave.
As she alighted from the train, the thought came to her that she must at
once go in the station and telephone Arden. But another glance at her
watch caused her to hesitate. Arden and Sim might not be in Cedar Ridge
yet. So she decided to wait until she reached the house of her father's
friend and to telephone from there.
She approached a taxi and gave the address to the driver. The ride was
not long, and soon was on the steps waiting to be admitted at the Newman
house.
It was Mr. Newman himself who opened the door.
"Why, Sim Westover!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here? We thought
you were safely in bed at Cedar Ridge. But come in! Take off your
things!"
"Good-evening, Mr. Newman," Sim said quickly. "I should be at Cedar
Ridge, but something very important came up, and I decided, in a hurry,
to come up here to see Dad. I was in New York at a dance. Dad is here,
isn't he?"
"Why, no, Sim, he isn't. He telephoned me, late this afternoon, that he
couldn't make it after all. Is anything the matter?"
Sim's face was a study in many expressions as she faintly replied:
"Yes, I guess there is--now. Everything would have been all right if I
hadn't been so forgetful!" Sim was close to tears, and the sight of her
mother's dear college friend (both ladies had graduated at Cedar Ridge)
caused Sim almost to break down.
"Come in, Sim!" greeted Mrs. Newman, sensing, as she hastened into the
hall, that something was wrong. "Have you had anything to eat? I thought
not. Come into the dining room. Marie can get you some tea and
sandwiches, at least. Then you can tell us all about it while you eat,
and you'll feel better. It isn't serious, is it?" This last prompted by a
look at Sim's face.
"Well, it isn't going to be very pleasant, I'm afraid." On the way to and
in the dining room, while a hasty lunch was made ready, Sim blurted out
the whole story.
"And so you see," she finished, "I must get word to Arden or Terry as
quickly as possible, and it must be managed so that I'm not found out as
missing or I shall probably be expelled. I'm away without leave. I must
get back tonight."
"Go back tonight? Impossible, my dear! Can't you stay with us until
morning?"
"I think not. If I can slip back all may yet be well. But if I have to
explain to the dean----No, it couldn't be done. There must be a train
back tonight, isn't there?"
She turned questioning eyes on Mr. Newman.
He looked at some time-tables, of which he had several in his smoking
room, and announced:
"You'd never get back until late--very late--by train. But if you feel
you must be back in college before morning----"
"I do. Oh, yes, I do, Mr. Newman!"
"Then the only thing is for me to drive you there. We can make good time
at night. I know the roads."
"Oh, Mr. Newman! I couldn't dream of----"
"Tut, tut, Sim! It's the only way. I don't mind. It will be a little
diversion for me. I'll have the chauffeur get the car out now. He can do
the driving. I'll sit and talk to you, and the way won't seem so long."
"Oh, Mr. Newman, you're wonderful! Now I must phone Arden at once to be
watching for me. Luckily our room is on the front of the dorm. How long
do you think it will take?" Sim, getting up from the table, at the
session of which she had much improved in spirits, was planning rapidly
now. Perhaps all would yet be well.
"About three hours, I should say," Mr. Newman answered. "It will be slow
going from here until we get into New Jersey, and then we can make time.
You ought to be back _at_ college around midnight, though whether you can
get _in_----"
"That's why I must phone Arden or Terry. Oh, what a lot of trouble I'm
causing!" Sim's eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them back.
"There, now, my dear, never mind!" soothed Mrs. Newman. "We'll help you
all we can."
"That's the kind of people they are," Sim told Arden, later. "They
haven't forgotten what it is to be young."
It took some little time to get a telephone connection through to Cedar
Ridge, and Sim lived years in moments, she thought, while waiting for
Arden to come to the phone. Finally the voice came to her.
"Hello, Arden? Yes, I'm all right. I'm up at Larchmont with friends of
Dad's. Did they find out about me? No? Good! Listen! Here's my plan. I'll
tell you all how it happened later. Someone might hear us if I talked too
long now. I'm driving back--yes, driving. I'll get there about midnight.
Don't fall asleep. When we get to the entrance--the outside gate, I
mean--we'll toot the horn three times. You and Terry slip down and let me
in. Do you understand? Fine! I'm leaving right away. Good-bye, darling!
I'll explain everything later. I'm quite all right, and nothing has
happened. Good-bye!"
She hung up and turned to her friends, murmuring:
"That's over, thank goodness!"
"Well, let's get going, Sim!" Mr. Newman was now almost as much excited
as was Sim herself.
"Try to sleep on the way out, Sim dear," advised Mrs. Newman. "I'm having
robes and a soft cushion put in the car. You can snuggle up in a corner
of the sedan."
"I thought she was going to talk to me!" chuckled Mr. Newman.
"Of course I will--if I can find anything to talk about."
"No, you mustn't," decided his wife. "Sim must try to get some sleep. You
will, won't you, my dear?"
"Yes, I will. Luckily tomorrow will be Sunday, and I can sleep late in my
room--if I get there. Thank you both--so much! I'll never forget
this--never!"
Sim put her arms about Mrs. Newman's neck and kissed her affectionately.
"Oh, my poor dear! I know just how you feel. You meant it all for the
best, and there is really no harm done."
"Not yet," said Sim a trifle grimly as she followed Mr. Newman out to the
big sedan that was waiting, with the chauffeur at the door, on the drive.