SILK!
Belle Ringold and Sally Moon came up to the Norwood place the next
forenoon and found Jessie and Amy in a porch hammock, their heads
together, writing a letter to Jessie's father. Jessie had tried to get
Robert Norwood at his office right after breakfast, but a clerk had
informed her that Mr. Norwood was not expected there until later. He
would go direct to court from his hotel.
"And they have no more idea where he went to sleep than Momsy had,"
Jessie had explained to her chum when Amy appeared, eager and curious.
"He is so busy with his court work that he does not want to be
disturbed, I know. But it seems to me that what we heard over the
radio ought to be told to him."
It was Amy who had suggested the writing of the letter and having it
taken into town by Chapman, the chauffeur. The coming of Belle and
Sally disturbed the chums in the middle of the letter.
"Glad we found you here, Amy," said Belle. "You never are at home, are
you?"
"Only to sleep," confessed Amy Drew. "What seems to be the trouble,
ladies? Am I not to be allowed to go calling?"
"Oh, we know you are always gadding over here," said Sally, laughing.
"You are Jessie's shadow."
"Ha, ha! and likewise ho, ho!" rejoined Amy. "In this case then, the
shadow is greater than the substance. I weigh fifteen pounds more than
Jess. We'll have to see about that."
"And I suppose your brother, Darrington, is over here, too?" asked
Belle, her sharp eyes glancing all about the big veranda.
"Wrong again," rejoined Amy, cheerfully. "But if you have any message
for Darry you can trust me to deliver it to him."
"Where is he?"
"Just about off Barnegat, if his plans matured," said Amy composedly.
"Oh!" cried Belle. "Did he go out on that yacht? And without taking
any of us girls?" and she began to pout.
"No mixed parties until the family can go along," Amy said promptly.
"Jess and I, even, haven't been aboard the _Marigold_."
"Oh, you children!" scoffed Belle. "I shouldn't think that Darry and
Burd Alling and that Mark Stratford would want little girls tagging
them. Why, they are in college."
Belle really was a year older than the chums; but she acted, and
seemed to feel, as though she were grown up. Amy stared at her with
wide eyes.
"Well, I like your nerve!" said she. "Darry's my brother. And I've
known Burd Alling since he and Darry went to primary school. And so
has Jess. I guess they are not likely to take strangers off on that
yacht with them before they take Jess and me."
Belle tossed her head and laughed just as though she considered Amy's
heated reply quite childish.
"Oh, dear me," she proclaimed. "To hear you, one would think you were
still playmates, all making mud pies together. I don't know that you
and Jess, Amy Drew, ever will be grown up."
"Hope not, if we have to grow into anything that looks and acts like
you," grumbled Amy.
But Jessie tried to pour oil on the troubled waters. "Just what did
you come for, Belle?" she asked. After all, she must play hostess. "Is
it anything I can do for you?"
"Some of us older girls are going to have a box party down at the
Carter Landing on Lake Monenset the first moonlight night. Sally and I
are on the committee of arrangements. We want to talk it over with
Darrington and Burd and get them to invite Mark Stratford."
"Humph! You'll have to use long distance or radio," chuckled Amy.
"Now, don't interfere, Amy!" said Belle sharply.
"Wait," Jessie said, in her quiet way. "Don't let us argue over
nothing. The boys really are off on their boat. We do not know just
when they are coming back. Why don't you write Darry a note and leave
it at the house?"
"Humph! I wonder if he'd get it?" snapped Belle, with her face screwed
up as though she had bitten into something awfully sour.
"Well! I like her impudence," muttered Amy, as Belle and Sally
disappeared. "I don't see how her mother ever let her grow up."
"It is not as bad as all that," her chum said gravely. "But it is
awfully silly for Belle and those girls who go with her to be thinking
of the boys all the time, and trying to get the older boys to show an
interest in them. That is perfectly ridiculous."
"You're right," said Amy, bluntly. "And Darry and Burd think that
Belle is foolish."
"Now, let's finish this letter to Daddy," Jessie said, hastily. "And
then, oh, Amy Drew, I have an idea!"
"Another idea?" cried her friend.
"I don't know whether there is anything in it or not. But listen.
Don't you think we might get Henrietta, take her over to the Gandy
place, and look around again for Bertha?"
"We-ell, I admit that kid has got sharp eyes. But how could she see
into those buildings that are all shut up any better than we could
when we were over there?"
"You don't just get my idea, honey. If the girl who radioed her
message, and which we heard, is Henrietta's cousin, she will know
Henrietta's voice. And if Henrietta calls her from outside, maybe she
can shout and we will hear her."
"That is an idea!" exclaimed Amy. "It might work, at that." Then she
laughed. "Anyway, we can give Hen a ride. Hen certainly likes riding
in an automobile."
"And Nell has got an almost new dress and other things for her. Let us
go down to the parsonage and get them. And while Chapman goes to town
with this letter we'll paddle around to Dogtown and get Henrietta."
"Fine!" cried Amy, and ran home for her hat.
A little later, when she had returned from the parsonage with the
bundle and the chums were embarked upon the lake, Jessie said:
"I hope the poor little thing will like this dress that Nell was so
kind as to find for her. But, to tell the truth, Amy, it seems a
little old for Henrietta."
"Is it a cape-coat suit?" giggled her friend.
"It is a little taffeta silk, and Nell said it was cut in a style so
disgracefully freakish that she would not let Sally wear it. It was
bought at one of those ultra-shops on Fifth Avenue where they have
styles for children that ape the frocks their big sisters wear."
"Let's see it," urged Amy, with curiosity.
"Wait till you see it on Henrietta. There are undies, too, and
stockings and a pair of shoes that I hope will fit her. But consider!
Taffeta silk for a child like Henrietta."
There could be no doubt that the girls from Roselawn were welcome when
they landed at Dogtown and came to the Foley house. The greater number
of the village children seemed to have swarmed elsewhere; but little
Henrietta was sitting on the steps of the house holding the
next-to-the-youngest Foley in her arms.
"Hush!" she hissed, holding up an admonishing finger. "He's 'most
gone. When he goes I'll lay him in that soap-box and cover him with
the mosquito netting. Then I can tend to you."
"The little, old-fashioned thing," murmured Amy. "It isn't right,
Jess."
Jessie understood and nodded. She was glad that Amy showed a certain
amount of sympathy for Henrietta and appreciation of her. In a few
moments the child was utterly relaxed and Henrietta got up and
staggered over to the soap-box on wheels and laid the sleeper down
upon a pillow.
"He ought to sleep an hour," said little Henrietta, covering Billy
Foley carefully so that the flies could not bite his fat, red legs. "I
ain't got nothing to do now but to sweep out the house, wash the
dishes in the sink, clean the clinkers out of the stove, hang out a
line for clothes, and make the beds before Mrs. Foley and the baby get
back. I can talk to you girls while I'm doing them things."
"Landy's sake!" gasped Amy, horrified.
But Jessie determined to take matters in her own hands for the time
being, Mrs. Foley not being present. She immediately unrolled the
bundle of things she had brought, and Henrietta halted on the step of
the house, poised as though for flight, her pale eyes gradually
growing rounder and rounder.
"Them ain't for _me_?"
"If they fit you, or can be made to fit you, honey," said Jessie.
"Oh, the poor child!" exclaimed Amy softly, taking care that Henrietta
should not hear her.
"Silk!" murmured Henrietta, and sat down on the step again, put her
arms out widely and squeezed the silk dress up to her flat little
body as though the garment was another baby.
"Silk!" repeated the poor little thing. "Miss Jessie! How good you are
to me! I never did have a thing made of silk before, 'cepting a
hair-ribbon. And I never had any too many of them."