DALKY TAKES A VACATION
Having concluded his business with the two representatives of Sam
White’s estate, Mr. Dalken decided that he had earned a rest.
Therefore, when the young people asked, “Where next?” he replied:
“To Castle Hot Springs.”
This came as a surprise, because Jack had planned that day that they
would all go on to Phœnix, where not only business could be attended
to by the three men in the party, but the younger members would find
every kind of sport they might care to enjoy.
Dalky’s wish was law, however, and that evening found his entire
party domiciled at the high-class hotel located at the Springs. The
main feature of interest seen from the autos on that drive from Hot
Springs Junction, where they left the train, was the great varieties
of cacti, some of which towered as high as twenty-five feet above
the ground.
Hot Springs was an ideal resort for resting, and Dalky wished he
might remain there a month. The golf and tennis, the open air
swimming pools, the delightful horseback rides to points of
interest, brought a sense of peace to the three men who had raced
here and there in Illinois, Colorado, New Mexico and Arizona ever
since they met together at Chicago. The week spent at the Springs
did more, perhaps, to stimulate Mr. Dalken’s keen and ever alert
brain than anything he could have done.
Mrs. Courtney was not a devotee of swimming in ready-made pools, but
she preferred a nice, comfortable bathtub. Therefore, she generally
watched the others swim whenever they took the plunge. It needed no
more than the first trial to show Mr. Dalken that he might give that
time to better purposes, if he went for his swim before breakfast in
the morning. So, the second day of the tourists’ stay at Hot
Springs, found all but Mrs. Courtney and Mr. Dalken running to the
pool about ten o’clock in the morning.
“Why, Dalky! Aren’t you coming in with us?” cried Polly.
“I’ve taken my dip—before breakfast,” returned he.
Eleanor sent Polly a knowing glance, and then plunged from the
diving board. Jack and the three girls enjoyed the fun to the
utmost, and thus they forgot to keep an eye upon the two watchers
who usually received more than their share of attention from the
girls.
Mrs. Alexander never came near the swimming pool, and Algy, of
course, would not think of doing anything that his patroness did not
approve; hence they were sitting on the verandah of the hotel,
vainly believing they were the center of envious eyes, whereas the
other guests then lounging about the wide porch never thought of the
over-dressed lady and her insignificant escort.
Mr. Fuzzier and Mr. Alexander were splashing and diving about in the
pool, and this left Mr. Dalken and his companion free to follow
their own inclinations. By the time the two were missed from their
recent post at the edge of the swimming pool, it was impossible to
learn what had become of them.
The truth of the matter was that Mr. Dalken invited his friend to go
for an auto drive to the Junction, where he wished to attend to some
personal shopping. And Mrs. Courtney, having nothing better to do at
the moment, accepted his friendly invitation. The distance to the
Junction being about twenty-four miles, and the day being balmy and
beautiful, the chauffeur was advised to drive slowly and give his
passengers due opportunity to view the wonderful country they would
pass through. Thus it took the entire morning before the two
runaways were able to reach the hotel again, and this unaccounted
for absence gave rise to all sorts of speculations in the minds of
the girls.
Directly after coming from the dressing rooms of the bath-houses,
Eleanor whispered to her two companions: “Now I know why Dalky
wanted this vacation. He was head over heels in attending to
financial matters of the utmost importance, and suddenly, when he
found that Atchison man making up to Mrs. Courtney, he takes us all
away from the busy world and loses a week here at the Hot Springs.
He knows he will have his chance here to carry out his plans—you
know what, girls!”
Polly knew, but she was not easily persuaded that Eleanor’s
interpretation was correct. “I really believe Dalky was tired
out—you must remember that _we_ had a few weeks in which to rest
after the cruise from South America, but Dalky went right on racing
about New York, holding conferences and attending to important
business matters. From the moment we left New York City on the
Limited, he has been working ceaselessly—either with brain or body,
and that tells on one, unless you take a rest. At the same time, I
doubt if he would have thought of resting at this ideal resort had
it not been for Mrs. Courtney. Now it remains to be seen how near
right Nolla is.”
“I agree with Polly—Dalky is too matter-of-fact to plan any
romantic affair here at the Springs. If he wants to ask some one to
marry him, I bet he’d do it right in front of us all,” said Dodo.
“There you are mistaken!” exclaimed Polly and Eleanor together. And
Polly added: “Dalky has more romance in his make-up than you give
him credit for. The only trouble is that it has been suppressed by
the unhappy conditions of his first marriage.”
“You might say the same about Mrs. Courtney, too!” declared Eleanor.
“If it were not that both of them have had such lamentable
experiences, I am sure they would have shown each other plainly,
long before this, that they were ideally mated, and that would have
ended all our worries.”
Dodo laughed merrily and then added: “Nothing to worry about, Nolla.
It isn’t as though he was your beau.”
“No; but can’t you see that it does matter? If Dalky is happily
married to Mrs. Courtney, who is his other half-soul if there is
such a thing, it stands to reason that Polly and I shall always be
welcome additions to their little nest. Should Dalky marry some
woman of whom we know nothing, what chance is there for our future
welcome?” Eleanor frowned at such a dreadful supposition, and her
two friends laughed.
“You may be married first, Nolla, and then you can invite Dalky to
visit you,” ventured Dodo.
“No, Doe! Polly and I have sworn to see dear Dalky happily settled
first, before we may give a thought to husbands for ourselves,”
explained Eleanor, seriously.
“Wouldn’t it be queer if Dalky should confess he was in love with
Polly? He certainly likes her more than any one else I know. If
Polly became Mrs. Dalken we would sure have a good time with her,”
laughed Dodo.
“Why!” gasped Polly, horrified. “You talk like a—a—a I don’t know
what!”
Eleanor laughed aloud. “That is sacrilege, Dodo. Polly reveres Dalky
too much to ever dream of wasting his life by thinking of her for a
future bride.”
“Besides, there is Tom Latimer to be reckoned with. If Dalky ever
carried out such a plan as I just mentioned, Tom Latimer would have
his heart—like Shylock, you know,” giggled Dodo, enjoying Polly’s
annoyance and horror.
“But Shylock never got that heart,” added Eleanor. “Neither would
Tom get Dalky’s—but such things are out of the question.”
“I should think they were!” snapped Polly. “You girls seem to be
beau-crazy, and I have no patience with you—not a bit.” So saying,
she walked quickly away by herself.
When the three girls met again it was at luncheon time. Mr. Dalken
and Mrs. Courtney were ascending the front steps of the wide
verandah, but there were no tell-tale expressions upon the faces of
either one. Eleanor searched in vain for the blush that might inform
her whether Mrs. Courtney planned to become Mrs. Dalken.
Mrs. Alexander learned that Mrs. Courtney had accompanied the young
folks to the swimming pool every morning, and she immediately
conjectured that she did this in order to wear a fetching gown and
carry her white wrap—white was _so_ becoming to elderly women!
Then she heard that Mr. Dalken had escorted her there, and Mr.
Fuzzier had come up out of the water to sit upon the bank and talk
with her. This was enough incentive for her to plan how she would
take Algy, and walk to the pool in the morning, and show off her
lovely white serge gown and suede shoes. She had a flapper-stick
which she had used at Colorado Springs, fondly believing herself the
envy of all the women. This she would carry the following morning.
She knew better than to breathe a word of her plan to any one else,
but directly after breakfast the next morning, she went to her room
and began to dress for the parade she had decided upon.
Algy had been commanded to sit and wait for his patroness, and he
obeyed just as any good little poodle would do. He sat slowly
rocking in a huge, reed, porch chair, vacantly staring at a great
stucco pillar of the pergola. Not that there was aught to see upon
the pillar, but it served to interest his mind as well as anything.
The group of swimmers left the hotel to go to the bathhouses, and
soon after this Mrs. Alexander came out of her room, dressed as she
had planned the previous evening. She carried her imported
flapper-stick, and she also carried a most artistic basket which
contained some wool and a partly knitted scarf. She knew nothing
about a knitting needle, but the basket was a beautiful Indian
specimen recently purchased by Dodo at Grand Canyon, and Dodo’s
knitting might lead guests to believe that the lady carrying the
work was accomplished in the art. Other ladies sitting upon the
verandah during morning hours had compared their knitting and
embroidery, and Mrs. Alexander understood it was quite the proper
thing to do.
Algy hopped up the moment he saw Mrs. Alexander approach, and she,
in order to be impressive before the group of ladies busily at work
upon their handicraft, handed him the basket with the admonition:
“Do be careful, Algy, of the ball of wool. If it falls out it may
ravel all my knitting, you know. And that stitch is a very intricate
one to do.”
Algy took the basket as though it were some sacred relic, and, as he
toddled after Mrs. Alexander, he caused smiles upon the faces of the
ladies watching the little scene. After the two had gone down the
foot-path, those upon the verandah left little unsaid about the
vanity of the lady and the vacuity of the young man.
Mrs. Alexander felt sure she had caused a feeling of envy in the
hearts of every woman upon that verandah, and this certainty made
her feel satisfied with herself. As she reached the pool where an
iron hand-rail protects watchers from falling into the water, she
smiled to herself, thinking how much better she looked in comparison
with Mrs. Courtney, who stood upon the platform with Mr. Dalken.
Mr. Alexander had just scrambled out of the pool and now was
mounting to the platform, when Mr. Fuzzier, at his heels, spoke to
him. “Your wife is standing over there watching you, Alex.”
“Umph! There’s safety in distance!” grunted Mr. Alexander.
Mrs. Alexander saw that the three men seemed to be devoting their
attention to Mrs. Courtney, and this was not as it should be,
thought she. Hence she turned to Algy, and said: “I am going over to
join my husband, Algy,” and she nodded in the direction of the group
upon the diving-platform.
Algy followed as usual, carrying the ornamental basket upon his arm.
In walking too near Mrs. Alexander, however, he inadvertently
stubbed his toe and stumbled. To steady himself he caught at her
arm, and unconsciously dropped the basket.
Having righted himself once more, he stooped and picked up the
basket, but he failed to notice that the ball of worsted rolled out
and remained caught under a tuft of grass beside the walk. When he
started again for the platform, the ball began to unroll its length
of wool, and the scarf also began to respond to the tugging at it as
it remained in the basket, and the stitches gradually ravelled out.
By the time Algy joined those standing upon the platform, half of
Dodo’s pretty scarf had diminished into its original strand of wool.
Mrs. Alexander swung her handsome cane aimlessly to and fro to
attract Mrs. Courtney’s attention, since that was the only reason
for her carrying it, but her husband also saw it.
“By the Great Horned Spoon, Maggie! How’d you ever come to fetch a
walkin’ stick? Folks will think you are locoed.”
But his wife paid no heed to his remark—he was too ignorant of the
ways of fashionable society to cause her any concern. She turned to
prattle to Mrs. Courtney about the jealousy of the women upon the
hotel verandah—“They are so envious of one who has better clothes,
you know, that I really had to leave them. Did you ever see such
dowdies as they are?”
Mrs. Courtney had not noticed, and she admitted it. At the same time
she had to control a desire to tell Mrs. Alexander how unsuitably
_she_ was dressed for a simple morning recreation hour. Perhaps Mr.
Alexander would have spoken for her, had not Algy diverted all
attention to himself.
Jack had been watching the slow progress of Algy and his companion
from the pathway to the platform, and he planned, when he saw the
young man so near the water, that he would swim close to the side
and begin to splash, so that the water would sprinkle him.
Algy had been intent upon the conversation between the two ladies,
and now, when he felt the drops of water falling upon him, he looked
aloft, thinking a sprinkler or shower must be leaking upon him.
Seeing nothing overhead, he glanced down and saw some one kicking
and sending up great showers of water. Algy felt that it was his
duty to speak to this thoughtless swimmer, and to warn him that
well-groomed persons upon the platform would be made uncomfortable.
“Heah, you! I say! Don’t cha see what youah ah doing? My white
flannels are all spotted, and the ladies——” At this moment Algy’s
foot slid upon the wet, slippery plank, and in another second he had
made a head dive—basket and wool, and all!
Since he detested water in quantity sufficient for swimming, Algy
was unprepared for his impromptu bath. It was quite deep beneath the
platform, to accommodate those who wished to dive, and now the
frightened youth came to the surface spluttering and throwing hands
above his head in a wild attempt to clutch at some support.
Mrs. Alexander received the first genuine shock in many moons, and
she acted like the old-time Maggie whom Mr. Alexander remembered
with regret. “My goodness, Ebeneezer!” cried she, forgetting the
expensive cane in her fear for Algy’s life, and using it to hold
down for him to hold to. “Jump in and save him quick!”
“That ain’t the ocean, Maggie,” retorted her husband. “A little warm
water won’t hurt his head.”
“Oh, you cruel man. Won’t some one save the boy?” pleaded she.
“Jack!” shouted Mr. Dalken, “swim up and give him help to climb up
on the steps.”
Jack had been hovering near enough to Algy to grip him when he had
been sufficiently tested, and now he reached out and grabbed him by
the coat collar and propelled him over to the steep steps which led
up from the pool.
“There you are, my son,” laughed Jack, as he tried to show Algy how
he was to hold fast to the handrail.
But the frightened young man appeared to have lost all sense, for he
merely hung limp from Jack’s grasp. After a short time of having to
hold up his weight, Jack got tired, and said: “I’m going to drop him
if he won’t help himself. I can’t carry him out as though he had
been drowned, Dalky!”
The word “drowned” seemed to rouse the dormant brain in Algy, and he
frantically caught hold of anything within reach. Fortunately it
happened to be the steps, and soon he had his feet upon them. Then
Jack boosted from behind, while Mrs. Alexander caught hold of his
hair and pulled from above.
“Ouch! Ouch!” screamed Algy, but he feared to let go his grasp on
the ladder in order to make the hand clutching his long blonde hair
release its hold.
[Illustration: “OUCH! OUCH!” SCREAMED ALGY.]
Thus he came up over the top of the platform, a dripping,
drowned-looking, lank young man, the tears streaming from his eyes,
and the water streaming from every wrinkle in his sopping clothes.
He presented such a pathetic yet comic picture that his friends
wavered between a desire to laugh and a desire to sympathize.
Eventually both were indulged, but Algy paid no heed to either.
“What shall I do?” wailed he, shivering as he sent a glance of
terror at the pool.
“Go right into the bath-house and ask the attendant to give you a
rub-down and dry your clothes,” advised Mr. Dalken.
But Algy seemed to have had his last bit of sense washed out of him,
and he stood shivering without making a move to do as he had been
advised. Then Mr. Alexander took a hand in the case.
“Come along there, A. A. A.! If you don’t get off this wet platform,
you’ll slip back in the pool again. Now come on!”
As though the threat of more water roused him from sleep, Algy
hurried after Mr. Alexander. Then it was seen that he still clutched
the Indian basket; and the strand of wool, having so entangled
itself through the dive and the rescue, stretched and stretched, and
at last it snapped! When Mrs. Alexander saved her daughter’s
work-basket, still dangling from Algy’s hand, the scarf had been
unravelled, and but one row of stitches remained upon the needles in
the basket.
“Why, Ma! Isn’t that my work-basket which A. A. A. has upon his
arm?” exclaimed Dodo, astonishment uppermost in her expression.
“I think it is, Dodo. I used it for my work, this morning, but I did
not remove your knitting.”
“Your work! What work was that, Ma?” asked Dodo, in amazement.
“Oh! A bit of work that I wanted to do this morning. Something of
which you know nothing. I fear it is gone now—in the pool, likely,”
and Mrs. Alexander sighed with regret.