Betty Gordon at Boarding School
OR
The Treasure of Indian Chasm
BY ALICE B. EMERSON
1921
CONTENTS
I NEW PLANS
II NORMA'S LETTER
III SURPRISING BOB
IV MORE GOOD-BYES
V A REGULAR CROSS-PATCH
VI FINE FEATHERS
VII FUN AT FAIRFIELDS
VIII TOO MUCH PARTY
IX ADJUSTER TOMMY
X SHADYSIDE SCHOOL
XI FIRST IMPRESSIONS
XII THE LOST TREASURE
XIII THE MYSTERIOUS FOUR
XIV A SATURDAY RACE
XV NORMA MAKES REPAIRS
XVI THE NUTTING PARTY
XVII CAUGHT IN THE STORM
XVIII LIBBIE'S SECRET
XIX BOB'S SOLUTION
XX THE SECOND DEGREE
XXI DRAMATICS
XXII ANOTHER MYSTERY
XXIII JUST DESERTS
XXIV BETTY GOES COASTING
XXV THE TREASURE
BETTY GORDON AT BOARDING SCHOOL
CHAPTER I
NEW PLANS
"Me make you velly nice apple tart. Miss Betty." The Chinese cook
flourished his rolling pin with one hand and swung his apron viciously
with the other as he held open the screen door and swept out some
imaginary flies.
Lee Chang, cook for the bunk house in the oil fields, could do several
things at one time, as he had frequently proved.
The girl, who was watching a wiry little bay horse contentedly crop grass
that grew in straggling whisps about the fence posts, looked up and
showed an even row of white teeth as she smiled.
"I don't think we're going to stay for dinner to-day," she said half
regretfully. "I know your apple tarts, Lee Chang--they are delicious."
The fat Chinaman closed the screen door and went on with his pastry
making. From time to time, as he passed from the table to the oven, he
glanced out. Betty Gordon still stood watching the horse.
"That Bob no come?" inquired Lee Chang, poking his head out of the door
again. Fast developing into a good American, his natural trait of
curiosity gave him the advantage of acquiring information blandly and
with ease.
Betty shaded her eyes with her hand. The Oklahoma sun was pitiless. Far
up the road that ran straight away from the bunk house a faint cloud of
dust was rising.
"He's coming now," said the girl confidently.
Lee Chang grunted and returned to his work, satisfied that whatever Betty
was waiting for would soon be at hand.
"Bake tart 'fore that boy goes away," the Chinaman muttered to himself,
waddling hastily to the oven, opening it, and closing the door again with
a satisfied sniff.
The cloud of dust whirled more madly, rose higher. Out from the center of
it finally emerged a raw-boned white horse that galloped with amazing
awkwardness and incredible speed. Astride him sat a slim, tanned youth
with eyes as blue as Betty Gordon's were dark.
"Got something for you!" he called, waving his arm in the motion of
lasso-throwing. "Catch if you can!"
"Oh, don't!" cried Betty eagerly. "What is it, Bob? Be careful or you'll
break it."
Bob Henderson reined in his mount and slipped to the ground. The white
horse contentedly went to munching dry blades of dusty grass.
"Bob, I do believe you've been silly," said Betty, trying to speak
severely and failing completely because her dimple would deepen
distractingly. "You know I told you not to do it."
"How do you know what I've done?" demanded Bob, placing a square
package in the girl's hands. "Don't scold till you know what you're
scolding about."
Betty, busy with the cord and paper, paused.
"Oh, Bob!" she beamed, her vivid face glowing with a new thought.
"What do you think? I had a letter yesterday from Bobby Littell, and
she's going to boarding school. And, Bob, so am I! Uncle Dick says so.
And, Bob--"
"Yes?" smiled Bob, thinking how the girl's face changed as she talked.
"Go on, Betty."
"Well, Louise is going, too, and they think Libbie will come down
from Vermont. Dear old Libbie--I wonder if she is as incurably
romantic as ever!"
Betty's fingers had worked mechanically while she spoke, and now she had
her parcel undone.
"Why, Bob Henderson!" she gasped, as she drew out a handsome white box
tied with pale blue ribbons and encased in waxed paper.
"I hope they're not stale," said Bob diffidently.
Betty slit the waxed paper and took off the box lid, revealing a
perfectly packed box of expensive chocolates.
"They're beautiful," she declared. "But I never dreamed you would send
East for 'em simply because I happened to say I was hungry for good
candy. Um--um--taste one quick, Bob."
Bob took a caramel and pronounced it not "half bad."
"Uncle Dick's gone somewhere with Dave Thorne," announced Betty, biting
into another candy. "He didn't know when he would get back, and I'm
supposed to ride to the Watterby farm for lunch. It must be after
eleven now."
"Miss Betty!" Lee Chang's voice was persuasive. "Miss Betty, that apple
tart he all baked done now."
"Apple tart?" shouted Bob. "Show me, Lee Chang! I'd rather have a corner
of your pie than all the candy in New York."
"Him for Miss Betty," said the Chinaman gravely.
"But you don't care if I give Bob some, do you?" returned Betty
coaxingly. "See, Lee Chang, Bob gave me these. You take some, and we'll
eat the tart on our way home."
Lee Chang's wish was fulfilled when he placed the flaky tart in
Betty's hands, and he took a candy or two (which he privately
considered rather poor stuff) and watched the girl no longer. From now
on till dinner time Lee Chang's whole attention would be concentrated
on the preparation of an excellent dinner for the men who worked that
section of the oil fields.
"I don't believe I can ride and eat this, after all," decided Betty.
"Let's sit down on the grass and finish it; Clover hasn't finished her
lunch, either."
The little bay horse and the tall, shambling white were amiably straying
up and down the narrow borders of the road, never getting very far away.
"You haven't said a single word about my going to boarding school, Bob,"
Betty said, dropping down comfortably on the dusty grass and breaking the
tart across into two nearly even pieces. "There--take your pie. Don't you
think I'll have fun with the Littell girls?"
"You'll have a lark, but I'm not so sure about the teachers," declared
Bob enthusiastically, an odd little smile quivering on his lips. "With
you and Bobby Littell about, I doubt if the school knows a dull moment."
"Bobby is so funny," dimpled Betty. "She writes that if Libbie comes, her
aunt expects Bobby to look after her. Wait a minute and I'll read you
that part--" Betty took a letter from the pocket of her blouse.
"Listen--
"Aunt Elizabeth has written mother that she hopes I will keep an eye on
Libbie. Now Betty, can you honestly see me trailing around after that
girl who sees a romance in every bush and book and who cries when any one
plays violin music? I'll look after her all right--she'll have to study
French instead of poetry if I'm to be her friend and guide."
* * * * *
"But, of course, Bobby does really love Libbie very dearly," said Betty,
folding up the letter and returning it to her pocket. "She wouldn't hurt
her for worlds."
"You'll be a much better guardian for Libbie, if she needs one,"
pronounced Bob, with unexpected shrewdness. "Bobby hasn't much tact,
and she makes Libbie mad. You could probably control her better with
less words."
"Well, I never!" gasped Betty, gazing at Bob with new respect. "I never
knew you thought anything about it."
"Didn't until just now," responded Bob cheerfully. "So Uncle Dick is
willing to let you go, is he? When do you start?"
"You don't mind, do you, Bob?" countered Betty, puzzled. "You sound so
kind of--of funny."
"Don't mean to," said Bob laconically.
Having finished his tart, he lay back and rested his head in his hands in
true masculine contentment.
"I like that blue thing you've got on," he commented lazily. "Did I ever
see it before?"
"Certainly not," Betty informed him. "I've been waiting for you to notice
it. It's wash silk, Bob, and your Aunt Faith said I could have it if I
could do anything with it. She's had it in a trunk for years and years."
"I don't see how you and Aunt Faith could wear the same clothes, she's so
much taller than you are," said Bob, obviously trying to put two and two
together in his mind. "But it looks fine on you, Betty."
Betty smiled at him compassionately.
"Oh, Bob, you're so funny!" she sighed. "I made this blouse all
myself--that is," she corrected, "Mrs. Watterby helped me cut it out and
she sewed the sleeves in after I had basted them in wrong twice, but I
did everything else. There wasn't a scrap of goods left over, either. I
put it on to-day because I wanted you to see me in it."
She was worth seeing, Bob acknowledged to himself. The over-blouse of
blue and white checked silk, slashed at the throat for the crisp black
tie, and the gray corduroy riding skirt and smart tan shoes were at once
suitable and becoming.
"I'll have to have some new clothes for school," declared Betty, who had
a healthy interest in this topic. "We can't wear very fussy things,
though--Bobby sent me the catalogue. Sailor suits for every day, and a
cloth frock for best. And not more than one party dress."
"I asked her when she started," Bob confided to the blank eye of the
white horse now turned dully toward him. "But if she answered me, I
didn't hear."
"I'm going a week from this Friday," announced Betty hastily. "That will
give me a week in Washington, and Mrs. Littell has asked me to stay with
them. I must write to Mrs. Bender to-night and tell her the news; she has
been so anxious for me to go to school again."
"Oh, gee, Betty, that reminds me--" Bob sat up with a jerk and began a
hasty search of his pockets. "When you spoke of Mrs. Bender that reminded
me of Laurel Grove, and Laurel Grove reminded me of Glenside, and that,
of course, made me think of the Guerins--Here 'tis!" and the boy
triumphantly fished out a small letter from an inside pocket of his coat
and tossed it into Betty's lap.
"It's from Norma Guerin!" Betty's expressive voice betrayed her
delight "Why, I haven't heard from her in perfect ages. I wonder what
she has to say."
"Open it and see," advised the practical Bob. "I meant to give you the
letter right away, and first the tart and then the blouse thing-a-bub
drove it out of my mind. I'll lead the horses and you can read as we
walk. Want me to take the plate back to Lee Chang?"
He dashed back to the bunk house, returned the tin, and rejoined Betty,
who was slowly slitting the envelope of her letter with a hairpin. She
had tucked her candy box under her arm, and Bob took the bridles of the
two horses.
"Mercy, what was that?" Betty glanced up startled, as a wild yell sounded
over on their right.
There was a chorus of shouts, the same wild yell repeated, and then,
sudden and without warning, came a dense and heavy rain of blackest oil.
"Oh, Bob, Bob!" There was genuine anguish in Betty's wail of appeal. "My
new blouse--look at it!"
But Bob had no time to look at anything. Action was to be his course.
"It's a premature blast!" he shouted. "Come on, we've got to get out!"