IN FOR A FROLIC
The high-school boys and girls of Scranton, like those of most other
communities, delighted in getting up occasional entertainments so dear
to the hearts of young people. A straw-ride late in the summer; it
might be a class-spread under difficult conditions on account of the
envy of the other grades at school; and once in a while a jolly barn
dance was engineered by a committee composed of both sexes.
There was just such a pleasant outing arranged for this same Friday
night. Some of the fellows had made up a party to go out several miles
to where a big barn, as yet empty of the anticipated crop of hay,
offered them excellent facilities for a merry hop.
A trio of darky players had been engaged. The leader was quite famous
through that section of country and had played at such affairs for
years. Everybody for miles around knew Daddy Whitehead and the fiddle
from which he could extract the most enticing music boys and girls had
ever danced to; while his assistants, Mose Coffin and Abe Skinner were
fairly good with the violoncello and oboe, making a good combination
capable of playing up-to-date dances, as well as others known to the
fathers and mothers of the present generation.
These affairs were conducted with a due respect to the proprieties. A
middle-aged lady invariably went along in the carryall to chaperone the
young people, although there was a deal of fun going and coming back
home, as well as on the floor of the great barn, with its many lanterns
to serve in lieu of electric lights.
Hugh was going, of course. He and his best chum, Thad Stevens, had a
pretty fair car in which to transport the two girls whom they had
invited as their partners. These same girls were co-eds with Hugh and
Thad on the weekly paper which Scranton High issued, just as many other
schools do. They were named Sue Barnes and Ivy Middleton. Sue was
Hugh's company, while the dark-haired vivacious Ivy seemed to have a
particular attraction for Thad.
By the way, since Thad has thus far not been introduced to the reader,
it might be a good idea to say a few words about him before going any
further with the exciting events that happened on the Friday night of
the barn hop.
Thad was a quick-tempered lad, in which respect he seemed to differ
radically from Hugh, who somehow managed to keep his under wonderful
control, as though he had long practiced holding it in subjection.
Strangely enough, Thad's folks came of Quaker stock, and "thee" and
"thou" had been familiar words to his young ears. But Thad apparently
had not inherited the peaceful ways of his ancestors, for he had been
in more than a few battles with some of his more pugnacious school
companions, nor did he always come out from these encounters first best.
All the same, Thad was a pretty clever chap, and Hugh had always been
very fond of his chum. They got on wonderfully well together, and
seldom had the least "tiff."
It was Thad who had secured his father's old car for the special
occasion. He turned up at Hugh's house about half-past seven that
evening. It was a calm night, and the moon was just rising in the
east, being a little past her full period.
"Say, this couldn't be improved on any, according to my notion, Thad,"
Hugh remarked, as, attracted by the call of the klaxon outside, he
hurried forth, wearing his overcoat, for the night air was quite
chilly, it being still only April.
"A bang-up night for a dance," echoed the enthusiastic Thad; "just cool
enough to keep us from getting overheated. The farmer's wife will make
the coffee, and spread a table for us in her big kitchen, she promised;
and the girls are to provide lots of good things. We're mighty lucky
for once, Hugh."
"How many do you think will be on hand?" asked the other, settling down
alongside the driver.
"Well, ten couple have solemnly promised to attend, barring some
accident; and I reckon there may be several more show up, because we've
done lots of talking about the jolly time we expected to have. I only
hope that Nick Lang and his crowd will have the decency to stay away.
If they show up there's bound to be trouble brewing."
"I'm afraid so," acceded Hugh, seriously, "for Nick is never so happy
as when he's making other folks miserable. But the farmer has a stout
hired man, who will be on deck to keep an eye on our cars, and other
conveyances; so there'll hardly be any tricks attempted with the lines,
taking wheels off buggies, and all such practical jokes, such as those
fellows dearly love to play."
"I heard Owen Dugdale was coming," Thad went on to say, as they started
off, "which is something unusual for him, because up to now we've never
seen him at a hop."
"Now how did you learn that?" laughed Hugh.
"Oh! a little bird told me," replied the other. "Fact is, Hugh, pretty
Peggy Noland told my sister Grace Owen had asked her to be his company
to this hop, and she had accepted, because somehow she always liked
Owen."
"Whew! I wonder now how Nick Lang will feel about that?" ventured
Hugh. "You know Peggy used to have him for her company a number of
times. But I remember how annoyed she looked at the class spread when
he acted so rudely, and made everybody present wish he had stayed at
home."
"Oh! Peggy says she will never, never go anywhere again with that
terrible Nick Lang. She never did like him any too well, and now she
detests him. I only hope Nick isn't mean enough to try to pick on Owen
because Peggy's accepted his offer to take her to the barn hop."
There were so many other things pressing on Hugh's mind just then that
he did not give the matter much attention. Later on, perhaps he might
have it brought forcibly before him, and in a manner bordering on
tragedy in the bargain.
Hugh meant to take Thad into his confidence at the first favorable
opportunity. He knew his chum would never breathe a syllable of what
he told him; and possibly two heads might prove better than one in
solving what promised to be a great enigma. But the time was too short
now to even mention the matter. Perhaps later on as they chanced to
come together between the dances he would find the opening he sought to
confide in Thad. He did excite the other's curiosity, however, by
saying just before they drew up in front of the Barnes' home:
"I've got something queer to tell you, Thad, when I get the chance.
Perhaps it'll come while we're resting between dances. I've undertaken
a pretty big proposition, and I'd like to have you share it with me."
"Well, now, you _have_ got me guessing," chuckled Thad. "What a fellow
you are for undertaking big things. Nothing seems to faize you, Hugh,
Can't you just give me a little clue to feed on till you explain it
all? It's mean to stir me up like that, you know, old fellow."
"All I can tell you now," said Hugh, who had discovered some one
peeping out through the lace curtains at the parlor window, and knew
how anxious Sue must be for him to run up the steps and ring the door
bell, "is that it concerns Owen Dugdale. So just let your
curiosity-mill work on that until I can spin the whole odd yarn."
"Whew! you've twisted me up worse than ever now," he heard Thad
muttering, as he hastened to make for the door, where the eager Sue
awaited him, having seen the car stopping at the curb.
As Ivy lived only a short block away, they speedily had her installed
alongside the chattering Sue in the back seat; though possibly on the
way home the girls might prefer to change partners, as Ivy was heard to
say she just dearly loved to be alongside the chauffeur when out in a
car, because the view was so much better.
On the road they passed several vehicles, all bound in the same
direction. Now it was a slow car that managed to roll along "like an
ice-wagon," as Thad laughingly called out on going ahead. Then again
it was a buggy pulled by a horse; for there were actually a few of
these almost extinct quadrupeds still to be found in some of the family
stables of Scranton.
"Listen! that must be the carryall ahead of us," called out Thad, not
venturing to turn his head when he spoke, because the road was rather
poor, with ditches on either side, while the moon gave rather a poor
light, since it had not yet risen above the haze near the horizon.
Some one aboard was noisily tooting the horn, for some boys seem to be
up to all manner of mischief every hour of the day, and dearly love to
make a noise in the world, even though it rasps on other people's ears
distressingly.
Once they arrived at their destination, they found it a very gay scene.
The barn had been quite prettily decorated by some of the girls who had
come out during the last two afternoons after school to sweep the
floor, and instruct the farmer and his helper just where to hang the
many lanterns they had fetched along.
There was Daddy Whitehead, with his famous fiddle, which he was already
tuning up, so as to be ready to commence operations; while his "band,"
consisting of Abe Skinner and Mose Coffin, sat there with huge grins on
their faces, and also an expectant look. They had undoubtedly noted
the huge hampers of eatables that came with each party, and could
anticipate a delightful break in the monotony of sawing away, or
blowing steadily into that oboe instrument.
Chattering girls and boys were soon strewn all about the place. The
farmer and his good wife seemed to be enjoying the picture, since it
must have reminded them of somewhat similar episodes in their own
younger years, when life seemed buoyant, and without any trouble such
as time always brings in its train.
Soon the first dance started, and immediately the floor was covered
with happy couples whirling in the maze of a waltz. More vehicles
arrived, and others joined in the festivities. This continued for two
solid hours, with brief respites to allow both musicians and dancers a
chance to "rest up."
Then some of the girls were called upon to pass into the kitchen of the
farmhouse to start work at getting supper ready; though none of the
boys were allowed to accompany them, being told that they would only
interfere with the work.
It happened that among those who took this duty on themselves were both
Ivy and Sue, so that Hugh and Thad found they were without partners.
They were feeling a bit fatigued in the bargain, and following the
example of several other fellows who were in the same fix, they
strolled outside for a breath of cool air, taking care to pick up their
overcoats, as they were flushed from exercise.
Here Thad demanded that Hugh explain what his strange words meant with
reference to Owen Dugdale. He listened while the other told the story
in low tones; for while they believed themselves alone in the
moonlight, it was always possible that some other fellow might be
loitering close by, and thus overhear what was not intended for his
ears.
Thad of course was deeply interested by what he heard. He, too,
declared that it seemed preposterous to think that Owen could demean
himself so much as to deliberately steal what belonged to the queer old
French madame. At the same time Thad admitted he considered the
circumstantial evidence fairly strong.
"My father's a lawyer, you know, Hugh," he went on to say, "and I've
heard him say circumstantial evidence has hanged many an innocent man.
We ought to go mighty slow about believing Owen guilty without better
proof than his having been in the house on both occasions."