MYRA'S CLIMAX
"Well, vacation is over, and we had just begun having a good time,"
sighed Tabitha mournfully, drawing back the curtains and peering out of
the window that September morning into the gray fog of early dawn. "It
doesn't seem possible that we are back in Los Angeles again. I 'most
wish we had stayed at Catalina for this last day."
The Catalina campers, after a delightful two weeks' outing on the
Island, had returned to mainland the day before; but as Ivy Hall had
not yet opened its doors to its pupils, and most of the girls lived in
neighboring towns, Myra Haskell had invited them to spend the night
with her at her aunt's house. The aunt, Mrs. Cummings, was herself
away on a brief vacation, but had given her harum-scarum niece
permission to take possession of her pretty bungalow for the two nights
the party would be in Los Angeles before school commenced. So, as the
gray day dawned, it found a dozen mummy-like figures stretched about
the floor of the great living-room, wrapped in blankets and quilts, and
snoring blissfully.
This was the audience which Tabitha addressed, but she did not realize
that she had spoken her thoughts aloud, and was startled when Myra,
without opening her eyes, grunted, "Huh! You'll sing another tune
before night. This is to be _the_ gala day of your life. You will
never forget it. When Dad starts out to do a thing, he never stops
half way. The only trouble is to get him started."
"I didn't mean to grumble, truly," cried Tabitha, dismayed at having
had her ungracious complaint overheard by her young hostess. "It is
just grand of your family to invite all of us out to your ranch for the
day, but I believe it's going to rain. It certainly looks like it.
You could cut the fog with a knife."
"Whist! my young friend," murmured Gwynne, wakened from her slumbers by
the sound of voices in the room. "Don't be so pessimistic. Don't you
know it never rains in California? At least not in the summer time."
For from the opposite corner of the room someone had sleepily murmured,
"What about the ostriches?" and the whole company laughed
reminiscently, recalling that Thanksgiving night when the storm had
frightened the ostriches at the Park until they broke loose and created
a panic among the returning theatre-goers.
"Who said rain?" demanded Grace, lifting a tousled head from the pillow
to survey the hilarious group scattered about the floor of the spacious
room.
"Go back to sleep,--you dreamed it!" teased Bessie, who had begun to
slip on her clothes. "'Twas snow we were talking about. Feels like
it, anyway."
"It _is_ pretty chilly," admitted Tabitha, shivering under the thin
folds of her borrowed dressing-gown, as she turned away from the window
and prepared to follow Bessie's example. "Wake up, thou sluggards,
'tis time you were dressed. Remember we have a long and arduous day
ahead of us."
"Kitty must be tired," said Julia in mock sympathy, crawling out of her
warm nest and jerking the blanket off her nearest neighbor with
ruthless hand. "Is that it, Kitty? First you want it to rain, and
then when you can't make it do that, you begin to moan about the length
of the day before us."
"All wrong," Vera spoke up suddenly. "She is merely thinking of that
dear, cross-eyed boatman at Avalon. You know he promised to give us a
free ride to the Marine Gardens this morning, and here we all came away
and dragged Tabitha with us. Shame on us! What could we be thinking
about!"
Tabitha wisely joined in the laugh which followed this sally, and sent
a pillow flying after her tormentor, who had made a wild dash for the
hall. "No, sir, I'm not bemoaning my fate," she vigorously denied,
with her mouth full of pins. "I know we shall have a splendid time at
the ranch. Only it seems as if vacation had only just begun, instead
of being nearly ended; and the day looks so cloudy and gray that it
doesn't seem like a fitting climax for our lovely two weeks at
Catalina."
"It is too bad that you got cheated out of all the fun this summer,"
Myra sympathized heartily. "But just you wait until the day is done
before you say it is not a fitting climax-- Gracious Caesar! Here's
one of the autos already! Surely they can't be coming so soon! What
time is it, anyway?"
"Half-past six," Gloriana answered, glancing at an open watch that lay
on the library table.
"Half-past nothing!" cried Vera, tumbling hastily into the room with
her eyes as big as saucers. "It is almost eight o'clock!"
"You are joking!" cried the rest of the group in wild alarm.
"Am not! True as you're alive, the kitchen clock says a quarter of
eight o'clock."
"Oho!" murmured Myra guilty. "I--I--really, I forgot----"
"Forgot what?" they demanded, as she doubled up and shrieked with
laughter.
"I--I must have set all the watches in the crowd behind time," she
managed to explain at length.
"When?"
"Last night."
"What for?"
"Just a joke."
"A joke? I can't see any joke about that!" spluttered Jessie
indignantly. "Did you think we wanted to go for a forty-mile auto ride
on empty stomachs? I'm as hungry as a bear this minute."
"I am awfully sorry," cried Myra penitently, sobering at the
realization of just what would be the outcome of her joke. "I meant to
set them two hours ahead, so you would all get up at daybreak and be
ready long before the autos came."
"Just like you!" they exclaimed, half amused, half provoked. "What are
you going to do about it now?"
"What can we do? The autos are here already with the rest of the
people. There are the Carsons and here comes Miss Pomeroy."
"And there is Tabitha's father in his new machine."
"Yes, and mine," said Myra. "My! won't he be mad to think we aren't
even dressed? If there is one thing above another that he abominates,
it is having to wait for a woman to get ready to go somewhere. Well, I
suppose I'll have to break the news to him. Then after you have all
gone home again, won't I get the dickens?"
"Hold on!" cried Tabitha, as Myra started for the door. "There is no
need of that, is there? I've got a brilliant inspiration. Didn't you
say when you investigated the larder last night that your aunt must
have baked just a-purpose for our visit?"
"Yes, words to that effect. There is a whole crock full of doughnuts
and another of cookies. She must have had baking day just before she
decided to take her little trip. But why?"
"We'll just fill our pockets----"
"Haven't any!"
"Well, our hands, then, and eat our breakfast on the sly."
"On the _fly_ you mean," said Gwynne, sarcastically.
"To be exact, yes. Or perhaps it would be better to pretend that we
just found the supplies as we were about to leave the house. That will
be the truth, so far as the most of us are concerned. Won't it?"
"But cookies and doughnuts are pretty slim fare for hungry bodies,"
grumbled Vera, tugging at an unruly collar.
"Better than nothing," said Bessie cheerfully. "Dinner will taste all
the better."
"But we aren't ready," objected Julia, slipping the last hairpin in the
heavy coil at the back of her head. "My shoes aren't buttoned yet, and
I can't scare up a hook in the whole outfit."
"Bring 'em in your hand, then," suggested Gwynne. "I'm ready now, and
I elect myself commissary general to distribute the rations as you pass
out. Who'll be first in line? Gather up your bedding, Jessie, and
stack it in the corner, else Myra's aunt will think tramps camped here
instead of civilized human beings. Now, are you all clothed and in
your right minds? Then, Grace, poke your head out of the window and
announce to the audience that we will be out in a minute. Where are
your hats and coats? Yes, Kate, there'll be time for you to wash your
face if you haven't been able to do so before. Look pleasant, please!
No one must suspect that we've had no breakfast; but in my mind's eye,
I can see this bunch stowing away their dinner three or four hours from
now. Hope they serve it as soon as we get there. Do you suppose there
will be enough to go around? How far did you say it was, Myra? Forty
miles?"
Laughing and joking, the dozen hungry, breakfastless girls hurried into
their coats and veils, seized their pitifully small allotment of
doughnuts and cookies, and boisterously climbed aboard the autos
waiting for them.
"Only ten minutes late by actual count," Mr. Haskell complimented them,
as the merry crowd poured out of the door.
"Well, well, that's doing fine! How did it happen?"
"It's all Myra's fault," began Vera plaintively, but Myra, fearful that
she was about to be betrayed, hastily asked, "Where is the dinner, Dad?
Didn't mother tell you to bring----"
"Some stuffed squabs, fruit and cake? Yes, she did; and it's packed in
that trunk hitched onto the step there. You'll have to sit on it, I
guess. There doesn't seem to be quite room enough to accommodate all
the crowd."
This arrangement just suited Myra, who loved to romp like her brothers;
so she gleefully perched on top of the long, flat chest strapped on one
side of the auto, and the procession slowly set out on its long journey.
"My! but it's a beautiful day," sighed Tabitha at length, her eyes
wandering from the fog-wet landscape below to the sky above, where the
blue was already chasing away the gray, as the sun struggled up behind
the eastern hills.
"Didn't I tell you so?" crowed Gwynne, regretfully studying the last
bite of a doughnut before popping it into her mouth. "It doesn't rain
in California. Is this the river we cross eighteen times, Myra, in
order to reach your ranch?"
"Only eight," mumbled Myra, with her mouth full of cookie crumbs.
"This is it. Allow me to introduce you to the great----"
"Great!" echoed Tabitha, looking down at the shallow, sluggish stream
with critical eyes. "Is it _really_ a river? Looks to me like the
little puddles we used to sail boats in after a heavy rain-storm back
home when I was a little tot."
"It isn't very awe-inspiring now, is it? But you should see it in the
spring after the rains. It certainly can play havoc then. Changes its
channel every two or three years, and causes all sorts of damage. What
is the matter ahead there?" Their auto had slowed down suddenly, and
now came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the road. "What has
happened, Dad?"
"Carson's auto is stuck in the mud."
"Mud?"
"Well, the river-bed, if that suits you any better. I'll get out and
see if I can help them----"
"No need; they've started up again," said Tabitha, waving her hand at
Carrie and wishing that she had been fortunate enough to get a seat in
Mr. Carson's machine.
The delayed procession started onward again, and without further
difficulty crossed the muddy river-bed and sped swiftly away down the
smooth road on the other side. But that same river had to be reckoned
with seven more times, and each time at least one of the cars sank in
the treacherous mud and had to be dug out.
"Well, thank fortune, this is the last time we cross!" breathed Myra,
as they approached the winding river for the eighth time. "Ours is the
only auto that hasn't stuck fast so far. Let her out, Dad, and we'll
be on the other bank in a jiffy. I never knew the river to be so high
at this season of the year."
"Knock on wood, Myra, knock on wood!" cried Gwynne in mock alarm. "Too
late, we've stuck fast! Why on earth couldn't you wait until we had
safely reached the other side before you commenced bragging?"
"Huh! You superstitious duck, did you think we could escape? Oh,
pshaw, we're out! Not even the fun of having to be helped across like
the others were! Well, never mind, Mr. Catt's machine is sure to stick
again. It has every time so far. There, didn't I tell you? Hurrah!
Watch your father puff, Kitty. Ain't he a sight? Get out your shovel,
Mr. Catt!"
Myra was excitedly dancing on the lid of the luncheon-filled chest, as
she hung precariously over the back of the tonneau, and bawled her
remarks at the unfortunate occupants of the auto behind them, which
seemed to sink deeper and deeper in the mire with every effort to dig
her out.
"Fasten this rope to your car and we'll try dragging you out," finally
suggested the ponderous Mr. Haskell, clambering heavily down from his
seat at the wheel and going to the aid of his unlucky neighbor, who was
not yet much skilled in the art of running an automobile. So they tied
the two cars together with a heavy rope, and tried to drag the captive
machine loose, but without success.
"Let me drive," suggested Myra, after they had tugged in vain for
several minutes, "and you get out and pull on the rope, too."
"What good will that do?" growled her father crossly. "If sixty horse
power won't budge the thing, do you suppose man's puny strength will?"
Nevertheless, he crawled out of his seat once more, and seized the
great rope dangling between the two cars. Mr. Catt, resigning his
wheel to the driver of the next machine in line, followed Mr. Haskell's
example, and with three or four of the other men of the party, they
added their strength to that of the machine, and pulled with all their
might. Myra, at the wheel, was in her element, and putting on full
power, she gave the lever a vicious jerk. The car leaped forward like
a thing alive, and bounded up the opposite bank at break-neck speed.
"Ah!" she cried in triumph, "I knew I could get her started. I'm a
bird!"
"Oh, Daddy," shrieked Tabitha's voice from the rear seat. "Let go, oh,
let go! Mr. Haskell, you'll be killed!"
"Myra, you chump!" hissed Gwynne in her ear. "Shut that thing off!
The rope's bu'sted and you are dragging our precious men folks uphill."
Myra glanced hastily behind her, reversed the wheel, and as the car
came to a standstill, she sprawled across the seat, doubled up with
merriment, half hysterical. "Oh, didn't they look funny hanging onto
that rope? What fools some mortals be! Why didn't they let go? Bet
Dad's got his nose skinned good, for when I looked back, he was plowing
up the road on his head. Is he hurt? I don't dast to ask! Mr. Catt,
your clothes are pretty dusty."
"Dusty I'll admit, but not very pretty," he smiled grimly, as he wiped
the perspiration from his grimy face. "However, you got the car out of
the rut, so perhaps we can proceed on our way now."
"Then it might be wise if I resigned my seat to the chauffeur before I
am requested," chuckled Myra, still laughing immoderately at thought of
her father's undignified attitude as he was dragged through the dust,
clinging desperately to the frayed end of the broken rope. So she
scrambled nimbly to her place on the running board, and there Mr.
Haskell found her sitting prim and decorous when he had finally
recovered his breath and made himself sufficiently presentable to face
the rest of the party.
"Your nose is a little--soiled," she told him, as he climbed stiffly
into his seat, "and somewhat scrubbed, I'm afraid."
Her voice shook a little in spite of her efforts to control her mirth,
and he scowled darkly at his irrepressible daughter, though he only
said, "Are you all ready?"
So again the procession of autos took up their journey, and with no
further accident finally reached the great walnut ranch where the
Haskell family lived during the summer. The rosy, smiling mother
greeted them from the veranda as the cars rolled up the smooth driveway
and unloaded at the door. "You are late," she said cheerily. "Did you
have any mishaps? I knew you would be hungry after your long ride, so
we are serving dinner early. Dave, did you get the squabs all right?"
"Yes, he did," Myra answered. "I sat on them all the way out here.
Dad, bring on the 'eats'. Why, what is the matter?"
Mr. Haskell stood in the driveway frowning heavily at the car, much as
he might have done at a naughty little boy. At Myra's boisterous call,
he raised his eyes and inquired, "Where _are_ the 'eats'?"
"In the chest, of course. What do you--" Her voice died away in a
husky, bewildered squeak. The rest of the party came closer, followed
the direction of her glance, and gasped. The hamper full of stuffed
squabs was gone!
"Well, of all things!" cried Gwynne, when the silence was becoming
oppressive. "How could it have happened?"
"With Myra sitting on it!" chorused the girls.
"Didn't you miss it?"
"N-o."
"Ha, ha, that's one on you, Miss Haskell," laughed Mr. Carson.
"_Sitting_ on the lunch box and never missed it when it tumbled
overboard. How did _you_ manage to stick on?"
"How did the other machines manage to come along behind us and never
find it?" retorted Myra, nettled at the hilarity of her companions.
"_That_ is the question!"
"We must have lost it in the river," suggested Tabitha.
"Of course! When we were trying to pull out the other machine and I
shaved Dad's nose. Didn't I do a good job, Mumsie? Must we go hungry
now because I lost all your little stuffed scrubs,--I mean squabs?"
Anxiously she turned toward her mother and scanned that sober face, for
her eighteen hour fast had left her half famished, and there were at
least eleven other girls in the same boat, all because of her stupid
attempt at joking.
"We-ll, I have cooked a kettle of new potatoes and another of green
corn,--plenty of both. But it looks as if you must go without meat."
"Oh, we can get along nicely, I know. Vegetables are better than meat
anyway, you know. Come on, let's eat!" At that moment she felt hungry
enough to swallow the dishes themselves, and anything sounded
appetizing to her. As the rest of the party were equally as hungry,
they were not slow to respond to her invitation, and in a very short
time the tables were stripped; but the ravenous appetites were
appeased, and the little company scattered in groups about the ranch to
enjoy the few brief hours of their stay.
The return trip was as tame as the first part of the journey had been
exciting, for not a single car stuck once, and just as the city clocks
were striking nine, the tired, sunburned, but blissfully happy girls
again found themselves entering Mrs. Cummings' deserted house, where
they were to spend this last night before Ivy Hall opened its doors to
receive them.
"Oh, Kit, your father gave me a letter for you, hours ago," suddenly
exclaimed Myra in dismay, as they were unrolling their blankets ready
for bed, and she dragged forth a crumpled envelope from her blouse and
presented it to her surprised companion. "I'm so sorry I forgot it.
Really, it's inexcusable in me."
"It's of little consequence," Tabitha assured her, scanning the
unfamiliar handwriting with puzzled eyes. "I don't know anyone in
Boston. Oh, it's from Billiard and Toady, I reckon. They live at
Jamaica Plains, and--why, there's money in it! One hundred dollars.
What in the world-- Will you listen to this, girls? You know I told
you about their getting part of the reward for helping capture the bank
robbers in Silver Bow? Well, they are sending it back and want to know
if it's enough to give Mercedes another year at Ivy Hall."
A deep hush fell upon the group of tired, sleepy girls preparing for
the night. Each maid recalled with a twinge of conscience the picture
of quiet, sober-faced Mercedes McKittrick, as she had said good-bye to
them that last day of school. "I can never forget any of you," she had
said shyly, "and I'm glad of that, for it's nice to remember pleasant
times when you can't have any more." They had not understood then, but
now they knew it was her way of renouncing the happy school days which
she must give up because of her father's illness; and they were ashamed
of their indifference.
"I'll add fifty dollars of the check Uncle Jerry gave me," whispered
Gloriana, breaking the painful silence at last.
"And there's my birthday money in the bank," said Tabitha. "That's
another fifty."
"Oh, if only I hadn't spent my allowance for clothes that I didn't
need!" groaned Myra. "But I still have nine dollars and ninety-nine
cents left. Can anyone make it an even ten? Ivy Hall will be open to
us to-morrow, and school begins Monday. I can get along nicely on my
nerve until my next allowance comes in. Here, let's pass the hat."
"Me, first!" cried Bessie enthusiastically, reaching for her purse.
"I'll give ten dollars."
"My money is _all_ gone," mourned Grace, "but I'll _promise_ ten
dollars if you will take pledges."
In utter amazement Tabitha sat curled up on her pile of blankets,
watching the shower of gold and silver which poured into her lap. "Oh,
girls," she gasped, when she could find her tongue. "How can I ever
thank you? Mercy will be transported with joy. Here's more than
enough to pay all her expenses, and Carrie will want a share in it,
too. Aren't friends splendid!" Her voice was husky and tremulous, and
two bright drops glistened in her black eyes. What a beautiful world
this is to live in! Somehow, the spontaneous gift to little Mercedes
seemed a gift to her also, and she thoroughly appreciated the loving
act of her classmates. What a beautiful climax to her summer vacation!
Jessie sniffed audibly, and Vera surreptitiously wiped a big tear off
the end of her nose. Myra, who hated scenes, brought the group back to
the earth with a thump, saying briskly, "Come, let's to bed! I'm half
dead already, and my face is smarting like sin. I don't like your cold
cream, Kitty."
"Cold cream?" repeated Tabitha in surprise.
"Yes, I helped myself to the contents of the jar I found in your
suitcase. No one else had any, and my face was burned to a frazzle."
"Did you put that stuff on your face?" screamed Tabitha, holding up a
tiny white jar of creamy paste.
"Sure. Why?"
"Because it's corn salve. No wonder it smarts. Go wash----"
But Myra waited to hear no more. There was a wild scamper of bare feet
on the hall floor, the bath-room door banged noisily, water splashed
vigorously, and just as the girls were drifting off to sleep, they
heard Myra, snuggling down in her blankets, murmur sadly, "It's lucky
the Hall opens to-morrow. Otherwise these girls would soon be the
death of me."