SALVE!
FOR several moments after the Princess' withdrawal no one moved or spoke
in Ruth Drew's stateroom. Ruth was lying on her berth, almost in a state
of prostration, with Jean kneeling on the floor by her, resting her head
upon the same pillow. On the divan Olive and Jack sat close together,
Olive trying her best to think of some new consolation to offer her
friend. For although the four Ranch girls loved one another with almost
equal affection, after all Jack and Frieda were own sisters.
For the past year the girls and Ruth had been planning this trip to
Europe. When the school year at Miss Winthrop's had closed and Jack had
concluded her trying experience at the New York hospital, the girls,
escorted by Jim Colter, had gone home to the Rainbow Ranch. In the
autumn they then intended to join Ruth again in the east and set sail.
However, when the fall came around, Jack was not so well, affairs at
the mine were in a kind of a tangle and Olive's grandmother desired her
to spend another school term at Primrose Hall. So the European journey
had been postponed until the following spring. Now it was early March
and the Rainbow Ranch party was starting forth upon the Mediterranean
trip. Their plan had been to stop over for a day in Gibraltar and
afterwards to see Italy thoroughly before entering any other country.
However, on this, their first evening at sea, when they had anticipated
so much happiness, there was but one question and one desire in the
hearts of Ruth, Jack, Olive and Jean.
How could they bear the ten unendurable days before their ship reached
Gibraltar and the second ten of their return journey to New York?
For Ruth and the girls had finally concluded that Frieda had never
sailed on the Martha Washington. Of course a few passengers had been
discovered who claimed to have seen a young girl answering Frieda's
description. However, no one would swear to it. And even if Frieda had
fallen overboard, surely some one would have seen or heard her. Her
disappearance had taken place among a crowd of apparently well-dressed
and well-behaved people. It hardly seemed possible that she could have
been kidnapped. Nevertheless the steerage had been quietly investigated
without the slightest clue having been established.
It was the old story that was once more repeating itself. Nothing seems
more improbable than that any one whom we know and love can suddenly
vanish without leaving a trace of his or her whereabouts. Yet when this
actually does take place, no one has a sensible suggestion to make. All
is confusion, uncertainty and at last despair.
However, neither Ruth nor any one of the three Ranch girls were making
any noise, so that they suddenly became aware of a movement down the
short hall leading to Ruth's room. And then followed a knock at the
door.
Ruth turned over, facing the wall. "The steward is bringing our dinner.
Do please do your best to eat something, girls, for we shall need all
our strength," she pleaded.
Jacqueline shook her head. "Not tonight. If you will let me get away to
myself for a few hours I shall be stronger by tomorrow."
For the first time there was something in Jack's voice that brought her
chaperon, cousin and friend to a quick realization of their own
weakness. For, although Jack's right to sorrow was certainly greater
than theirs, until now, had she not been the strongest and most hopeful
of them all? And this when two long years of illness had left her far
from strong. Possibly through suffering she had learned a finer
self-control.
As she moved toward the closed door with her face white as a sheet,
suddenly Jean flung herself in her cousin's path.
"Don't go until you have tried eating something," she begged. "We can't
bear to have you ill again besides our anxiety about Frieda."
Jean flung open the stateroom door, but stumbled back and was actually
caught by Jack.
For there on their threshold stood the Princess, holding by the hand a
young girl with a quantity of light hair tumbled loosely about a flushed
face. Her blue eyes with their long lashes were looking indescribably
sleepy and injured and in her other hand she held a small, gold-linked
purse.
Jean sank down on the floor as Jack released her hold on her. Ruth
started up with a cry; Olive rose quickly to her feet, only to drop back
into her old place again. Therefore it was Jack who reached the figures
at the door first. And there her long-controlled self-restraint gave
way, as she flung her arms about the newcomer's neck.
"Oh, Frieda, Frieda Ralston," she sobbed. "Where have you been and what
has happened to you? Who could have kept you away from us for all these
hours. Hours--why you must have been away years!"
But Frieda had now come into the stateroom, with the Princess following
her. And though she had kissed Jack dutifully and affectionately enough,
she gazed with astonishment and some resentment from one white face to
the other.
"I--I haven't been anywhere," she protested. "At least, I have just been
asleep."
"Asleep!" Jean whispered the single word over several times. "Asleep!"
Yet certainly everything in Frieda's appearance suggested this to be the
truth. Her face was as calm and untroubled as a big wax doll's, her
color and eyes as serene.
"But how, when, where?" Ruth Drew inquired, struggling between the
hysterical desire to burst into laughter and tears at the same moment.
"I made a mistake in our stateroom," Frieda explained with that offended
and yet apologetic air which the other girls knew so well. "You see, I
came on the ship a little after Olive and Jack did and saw them standing
together waving to people. I knew they would never stop until we got
clear out of sight of New York. And I--I was so dreadfully tired! You
remember we had been out to the theater two nights in succession and had
just had the long trip from Wyoming to New York; so I thought I would
lie down for a few minutes' rest. I couldn't find Ruth in our stateroom
or in hers, but I supposed that she had gone up on deck. So I took off
my hat and coat and lay down--and--that's all there is to it."
Olive started the laughter. The nervous tension of the past few hours
had been too great for everybody. Now Frieda's voice, her manner, her
explanation, had turned what had seemed a tragedy but a few minutes
before into a ridiculous farce.
"Would you mind telling me, Frieda," (Olive struggled to be as serious
as Frieda might consider proper), "how you could find a stateroom in
which you could sleep for five or six hours undisturbed, when every
single room, every spot aboard this big ship has been ransacked to find
you?"
But here Jean's Princess, who had not spoken before, laughed gaily.
"Please, this is where I come in. Isn't that the American slang?" she
queried. "I found Goldilocks asleep in my bed just as the little bear
did in the old fairy story. Remember, my stateroom is the only one that
has never been investigated, since I have spent the entire time with
you. It is true that my maid and courier have been into my sitting room,
which adjoins my bedroom, several times. But they have also been too
worried over your loss even to have unpacked my trunks. Imagine what an
odd sensation it was for me to discover two big, blue eyes staring at me
from my very own pillow!"
And the Princess laughed as naturally and cheerfully as an ordinary
American girl.
"I wasn't asleep _then_!" Frieda defended. Catching the expression of
her cousin Jean Bruce's face, she realized that she would never hear the
last of this escapade.
"Then why, baby mine, when you came back from dreamland did you not
struggle into the hall and find out what had become of your family?"
Jean demanded.
"Because I was cross," Frieda whispered. "You see, I thought it hateful
of you to have let me stay such a long time by myself. And I meant never
to get up until you came and found me, even if I starved!"
"And speaking of starving!" Jean exclaimed, clasping her hands together
in a dramatic fashion and gazing at Frieda who now appeared as hungry as
she had been sleepy a few moments before.
But although Ruth and the three Ranch girls had done their best to make
her remain so, Frieda was not a baby. She turned to their new-found
acquaintance. Something in her sister's face showed at least a part of
the strain which her family had been under.
"I am afraid I hardly know how to thank you, Mrs.--Miss--" she
hesitated.
"She isn't a Miss or a Mrs. either; she is a Princess!" Jean whispered,
supposing that no one else could overhear her. However, seeing Frieda
shake her head with indignation over her cousin's continued teasing, the
four women, including the Princess, laughed in chorus.
"I am a Princess, really, Frieda, but my title does not mean anything
serious in Italy. And I hope you may not like me any the less well for
it."
The girls noticed that the Princess had spoken as informally to Frieda
as though she were one of them, but now as she turned toward Ruth again
her manner changed.
"For the second time let me bid you good-night and offer my
congratulations," she said.
And there again was the coldness, the hauteur and the superiority, which
Jean had resented before their misfortune had awakened the young woman's
sympathy.
In the midst of a murmur of thanks from every one else in the room, Jean
quietly opened the door for their visitor. But it was hardly possible
for the Princess successfully to pass two large men bearing enormous
trays of dishes in their outstretched arms.
"Dinner!" Jean murmured soulfully, forgetting her new-found dignity.
And the Princess' tired-looking, big blue eyes were immediately turned
wistfully toward the food.
"I am dreadfully hungry too," she announced, speaking like a girl again.
"I wonder if you would let me have some of your dinner. You see, it is
too late to dress now and I shall be all alone."
Five voices answered and several hands reached forward to draw their
guest down into the most comfortable chair. A little later the table was
laid with a bunch of roses, which Ruth had received anonymously, to
serve as the centerpiece. And seated between Jean and Frieda was a real
live Princess; when in their fondest dreams the Ranch girls had only
hoped to see one drive past some day in a coach and four.