AN UPSET CANOE
After a moment of silence--a tense moment--the footsteps passed on
again. The two chums looked at each other.
“Who could it have been?” whispered Dorothy.
“Give it up,” replied Tavia, recklessly. “None of our friends, or they
would have come in.”
Softly she opened the door and peered out.
“Whoever it was, they’re out of sight, and I don’t mean that for slang,
either,” she announced. “But say, Doro, dear, I don’t see why I can’t
find that picture. It’s disappeared most mysteriously. I don’t like it.”
“But you will find it. Perhaps it blew out of the window,” Dorothy
suggested.
“Maybe,” Tavia replied, “but I have lost something else.”
“What?”
“A slip of paper I took out of the candy box. It had an address on it,
and I wanted it.”
“But it was not yours, if you took it from Jean’s box.”
“That’s the very reason I wanted it. Well, never mind. Wash up and
we’ll go out in the woods. Maybe we’ll dig up some more lunch carts.”
“I don’t believe I care to,” Dorothy answered. “I want to wait for the
mail. Besides, my eyes would betray me,” and she glanced in the mirror
to confirm her suspicion.
“All right. I’ll go out, hunt up the news, and fetch it back to you. In
the meantime you might be hunting up your photo for me. I feel lonely
without it,” and Tavia, without making any other preparation than
picking up a parasol, was gone.
Dorothy did not sit down and cry, although she felt gloomy indeed, but,
as her trunk had arrived, she buried her “blues” in the work of getting
things in order.
Tavia met her “cronies” in the cedar clump. They were planning for the
“rumpus,” and as the two factions were rivals, each would, of course,
try to “perpetrate” the greatest surprise.
Cologne and Ned asked about Dorothy, but Tavia managed to reply without
really answering.
“The rumpus this year must be classic,” declared Molly Richards. “We
are growing up, and Mrs. Pangborn won’t allow any tom-boying.”
“Then count me out,” announced Tavia, “for I couldn’t have a smitch of
fun classicing.”
“You don’t know how much fun it is to try to look in a pool like
Psyche, and have a real frog jump out at you. However, if you have no
suggestions to make there is no use in telling all ours,” and Molly, or
Dick, as they called her, put up her note book.
“I suggest refreshments,” Tavia volunteered, “but I will have to
calendar my fee. I am, as usual, penniless.”
“And we are to re-name our club,” said Edna. “What do you think of the
Tarts--meaning tarters, of course.”
“I’ll just wager that’s what the ‘T’s’ stand for! Fancy us hitting the
same name. Wouldn’t it be a joke,” and, in anticipation, Tavia tossed a
ball of grass in Nita Brant’s ear.
“I wouldn’t have that,” declared Ned. “They would call us copy cats!”
“There’s nothing better than the Glens,” Cologne proclaimed. “And,
since we are the seniors, I believe we ought to keep to that.”
“Let’s vote then,” Nita suggested. “We are sure to be satisfied if we
all have our say.”
“Being chairman of the executive committee,” said Cologne, “I call for
a vote.”
“Make it a straw vote,” Tavia said. “I’ll get the straws. Long will be
_for_, and short _against_.”
When the straws were counted the decision was for Glens; and so that
matter was disposed of.
It took a full hour to make all the plans, and Dorothy’s ready
originality was greatly missed. It was the first time in her days at
Glenwood that she had not helped plan the “rumpus.”
Finally the group scattered, most of the girls taking to the pretty
lake for either canoeing or rowing. Ned and Tavia went in the canoe
with the closed ends, or air compartments, while Dick took a party of
the newcomers out in the big, red rowboat, with the golden “G’s” on
either side.
In the narrows, a part of the stream so called because the trees leaned
over there, Tavia’s canoe passed Jean Faval’s.
“She ought to learn to paddle,” Tavia remarked. “See how she digs.”
“But she looks pretty--I guess that’s the main point--with Jean,”
replied Ned.
“She’s going to turn,” Tavia said. Scarcely were the words uttered than
Jean did turn--right out of her canoe into the waters of Sunshine Lake.
“Oh, it’s deep there!” called Ned. “Let’s get to her.”
Tavia paddled quickly, and soon reached the spot where Jean was holding
on to the upturned canoe.
“Don’t be afraid,” Tavia called to the one in the water. “It can’t
sink.”
“But I can,” came the frightened reply. “Oh, do help me in!”
“We couldn’t get the water out of it,” answered Tavia. “It isn’t far to
shore. Can you swim any?”
“A little!” gasped Jean.
“Then just get a hold of our canoe and keep exactly in line with us. In
that way we can tow you to shore.”
Frightened as Jean was, she was still more afraid to be trailed through
the water. But when both girls assured her that there was no other way,
as she could not get her canoe righted, neither could she get in with
them, she finally consented to the plan.
It took some skill to guide the canoe just right, but Ned balanced the
craft while Tavia paddled straight and directly for shore.
Indeed, the proud girl was a sorry sight when she was landed, and
scarcely thanking the rescuers, she dashed across the fields for her
room in Glenwood Hall.