PREPARATIONS
"How many dresses are you going to take?"
"I wonder if we ought to bring along something for evening wear?"
"Anyhow we want something warm."
"And what about shoes--or boots? How would it do to wear leggings, like
the boy scouts?"
"I'm sure we won't want anything like evening dresses. Where could we
wear them up in the wilderness?"
"Why, perhaps there may be a lumbermen's dance."
"Oh, listen to Mollie! As if we'd go!"
"Why not? Of course we could go if we had a chaperone," and Mollie, who
had proposed this, looked rather defiantly at her chums.
The other foregoing remarks had been shot back and forth so quickly, in
such zig-zag fashion, that it was difficult to tell who said which; in
many cases the authors themselves being hardly able to identify their
verbal creations.
The girls were at the home of Grace, discussing, as they had been doing
ever since it was practically decided that they were to go to camp, what
they should take, and what to wear. It was far from being settled yet.
"Well, I'm sure of one thing," remarked Grace, "and that is that, as Amy
says, we ought to have at least two warm cloth dresses."
"An extra skirt, too, would be no harm," added Betty. "If we go out in
deep snow the skirt is sure to get wet, and then we could change on
coming in."
"Yes, I think that would be wise," admitted Mollie. "I am almost tempted
to wear--bloomers!"
"Mollie Billette!"
"I don't care," and she spoke defiantly. "More and more girls are coming
to wear them. Why, if we wear them in the school gym. I don't see any
harm in using them when we go camping."
"But up there--where we may meet a lot of rough lumbermen, who wouldn't
understand--I'd like it, really I would," confessed Betty. "But I guess
we'd better not. It's different here, and at school."
"Yes, I guess it is," admitted Mollie with a sigh. "But we can wear
skirts of a sensible length, and leggings. I'm glad we thought of
those. They'll be much more comfortable than boots, and not so heavy.
But what about a light dress? Do you think we'd have any use for one?
There's no use taking along a lot of clothes we won't wear."
"That's right," said Grace. "I spoke to papa about it, and he said that
while there were often little affairs among the lumbermen and the
residents up there, they never thought of wearing light clothes in
winter. They'd think it queer if we did, and went to any of the parties.
So let's don't bother with our fancy duds."
"Good!" cried Betty. "We'll be real outdoor girls, and dress as such.
Well, so much is settled. I'll make a note of that," and she proceeded
to set down the facts agreed to.
"Let me see," she mused, "what's this?" and she frowned over some
cabalistic marks on her paper.
"Can't you read your own writing?" asked Amy with a smile.
"Well, it looks like 'hats,' but I'm sure I didn't mean that. We settled
that we'd wear Tam-o'-Shanter affairs, or caps, so it can't be hats. Oh,
I have it. It's 'eats'--what are we going to do about food?"
"Papa says," spoke Grace, "that we can get lots of canned stuff up
there. The store that used to supply the lumbermen is open. And we can
send some cases of things from here. We can get fresh meat three times a
week, and eggs from the farmers when they have any. So make a note of
that, Little Captain."
"I will. But, as I understand it, the lumbermen have all left your
father's camp now--it's in the hands of a receiver. Maybe the store will
close."
"No, father said the country people depend on that store for their
things. It wasn't just a camp grocery. It will be all right."
"Well, that settles the two important items of food and clothing,"
remarked Betty, checking them off on her list. "Of course we'll have to
do considerable ordering, and decide on what variety we want to take,
but that can be done later.
"Next, let me see what is next--oh, yes, how are we going to get to the
camp--walk, ride, or----"
"Skate!" interrupted Mollie. "Why can't we skate there? It isn't so very
far."
"And drag our baggage and sandwiches along behind us on sleds?" asked
Betty.
"Too much work," declared Amy. "Let's hire a sled, get up a straw ride
and go in style."
"Oh, say, what about Mr. Jallow? Do you think he will make trouble up
there?" inquired Amy, glancing rather apprehensively at Grace. "You
know you said your father told you about his beginning to cut timber
and----"
"Oh, we needn't worry about that," declared Grace with confidence. "The
strip in dispute is far enough from the camp."
"Isn't it mean to have even that little worry, when it seemed as if
everything was going to be so nice?" murmured Mollie. "And that Alice
Jallow! I met her and Kittie on the street yesterday afternoon and I
just cut them both--dead."
"Mollie, you never did!" cried gentle Amy.
"Yes I did, and I'll do it again. I guess they were surprised, for I
heard them chattering like two--two crows--when I passed on."
"Serves them right--the way they talked about Amy," exclaimed Grace.
"Oh, but I don't want you girls to get into trouble on my account--to
fight my--my battles for me," faltered Amy. "It is unpleasant enough as
it is, without making it worse."
"Now don't you worry, little one," said Betty soothingly. "We can look
after ourselves, and I'd like to know why we should not break a lance or
two in your behalf."
"Of course!" cried Mollie.
"You're a member of our club," declared Grace, "and club members must
stand up for each other."
"Certainly," agreed Betty. "I don't like quarrels any more than you
girls do, but I do think that Alice Jallow ought to know that we resent
what she said."
"Oh, she knows it all right!" exclaimed Mollie. "I took good care that
she should! She's a regular--cat. No other word expresses what I mean,
and I don't care if it isn't a nice thing to say about a girl. She
deserves it."
Amy flushed and looked troubled.
"Don't let's talk about it," suggested Betty quickly, catching an
appealing glance from her little chum. "We all know there isn't the
least foundation for it, any more than there was at first, and that's an
old story."
"Oh, yes, there is a little more basis for it," said Amy in a low voice,
and with a hasty look around.
"There is?" cried Betty, before she thought. "Oh, I didn't mean that!"
she added quickly. "Don't tell us--unless it will make you feel better,
Amy."
"It will, I think. I have been going to ever since the day Alice hurt me
so, but I couldn't seem to come to it. But of late there has been a
change in--in Mr. and Mrs. Stonington."
"Don't you call them Uncle and Aunt any more?" asked Grace in a low
voice.
"I do to their faces--yes, but I don't think of them that way," and
Amy's voice faltered.
"Why?" Betty wanted to know.
"Because, by the merest accident, I found the other day, a piece of
paper in--in Mr. Stonington's desk. I had read it before I realized it
and it intimated that a mistake had been made in assuming that the
envelope pinned on my dress, when I was rescued from the flood, was
really intended to be on me. In that case Mr. and Mrs. Stonington would
be no relation to me."
"But if the envelope with their names and address on it was found on
you, why shouldn't it refer to you?" asked Mollie.
"Because there were _two_ babies rescued in that flood."
"Two babies?" It was a general chorus of surprise from the three girls.
"Yes. I was one. There was another. A man saved both of us, and set us
on an improvised raft. He found the envelope lying loose near us, and as
it was nearer to me he pinned it on my dress, assuming that it had come
from my sleeve. But it may have been on the other baby."
"How did this become known?" asked Grace.
"Through this man. It seems that some newspaper reporter, on the
anniversary of the flood in Rocky Ford--that's where I was found--this
reporter wrote up the former incidents about it. He interviewed several
who had made rescues, and this man was one. He told of having found two
babies, and one paper. I know Mr. and Mrs. Stonington, who read this
account, must have had their doubts about me raised anew, for I
overheard them talking very earnestly about it."
"Poor Amy!" sighed Grace.
"Yes, it's dreadful not to know who you are," said Amy, with a rather
cheerless smile. "But I am getting used to it now. It did hurt, though,
to hear what Alice said about it that day."
"I should think so--the mean thing!" snapped Mollie, her quick temper on
the verge of rising.
"But I know, no matter what happens, that Mr. and Mrs. Stonington will
always care for me," Amy went on. "If it were not for that I don't know
what I'd do. Now let's talk of something else--something more pleasant."
"Oh, this isn't unpleasant for us!" Betty hastened to assure her chum.
"Only of course we know how you must feel about it. If we could only
help you in some way!"
"I'm afraid you can't," said Amy softly. "It's good of you, though."
"It's like one of those queer puzzle stories, that end with a bump, in
the middle, and leave you guessing--like 'The Lady or the Tiger,'"
asserted Mollie. "I can't bear them. I get to thinking of the solution
in the night and it sets me wild."
"Yes, it is like that," agreed Amy gently. "But I don't see how it can
ever be known on which baby the envelope belonged."
"What became of the other baby?" asked Grace.
"I never heard, and the man who rescued me did not know either,"
answered Amy. "He turned us both over to the relief authorities, and,
assuming that I belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Stonington, because of their
address on the envelope, on my sleeve, they sent for--for my uncle, as I
suppose I ought to call him, though he may not be--and he has kept me
ever since."
"But there is just as much chance that you were the baby on whom the
paper was pinned, as to think that you were not," came somewhat
positively from Betty.
"Yes, I suppose so," Amy agreed. "But, please, let's talk about going
camping. I want to forget that I may be a--nobody."
"You'll never be that, Amy--to us!" declared Mollie, positively.
"Thank you, dear."
"The question still to be settled," broke in Betty, determined to change
the conversation, "is how are we to go to camp. Shall we skate or sled
or----"
"Ice boat!" cried the voice of Will Ford at the door. "Ladies, excuse
me, but I have arrived at a most propitious time, I observe. I overheard
what you said. Allow me to suggest--an ice boat!"
They looked at him with rather startled glances, and he added:
"Shall I explain?"
"As it seems to be an unguessable riddle--do," urged his sister. "Did
you bring any chocolates?"
"I did."
"Pay as you enter," said Mollie, laughingly.