BRIGHTER BUT NOT QUITE CLEAR
So that was what the girls meant when they spoke of the threatened
reform school. Miss Davis had not burst out in anger, as Babs had
imagined she might have done. How different things were after all.
Perhaps it was foolish to get so excited. But the girls seemed so
hateful. That was what hurt so. They just enjoyed cutting her, Barbara
was quickly thinking, and in doing so she was again building up a wall
of imagination that might be all wrong; just as she had been wrong
about the reform school.
It had been a wonderful opening at the Community House. Speeches were
made by many prominent men and women interested in the development of
the Community House plan, and of course, a tribute had been paid to
the girls’ part in the affair. Best of all Barbara Hale stood there,
right beside her proud father, and heard her own name called out as a
most efficient young chairman. There was some satisfaction in that.
How much that made up for! Barbara hadn’t realized that she cared
until the glory was being all swept away, when the girls threatened to
resign. But all the same, she saw them there now with Cara as cheer
leader, and they did clap their hands in the applause that followed
the calling out of her name. So perhaps they were sorry for their
spite. She was glad of that too. Another surprise for her. Miss Davis
stood beside her and had her kindly arm around Barbara’s waist. This,
no doubt, had helped change the girls’ opinion. Or maybe it wasn’t
changed either way, as she had feared.
Well, at any rate, things looked brighter. The family sampler was
placed among the things to be selected in the final issue of prizes,
and none of the other girls had brought any heirlooms in. Cara talked
of loaning a very old Chinese print, but she decided it might not be
understood so she didn’t bring it in after all.
“Might think the laundry man gave it to us for Christmas,” she joked
when Babs urged her to fetch it. “No, I don’t think I will. It
wouldn’t jibe in with Mrs. Brownell’s early American table.” This of
course had become the standard joke of the entire exhibit. The table
set the style. If it didn’t go with the table it wouldn’t go with the
show, was the way Cara argued, humorously.
So that Babs had fared very well after all, and she cared because her
father cared. Now folks would not speak of her as a girl deprived of a
girl’s pleasures, because she had to help her father in his laboratory
work.
Everything was bustle and confusion when Cara slipped around through a
little pantry door, came up the back way, and grabbed Barbara.
“It’s all right,” she whispered. “The girls are all over their huff.
We shouldn’t have kept them so long waiting. That’s enough to make
anybody mad.”
“Oh, I don’t care,” Babs answered, somewhat truthfully for she was
feeling very brave now. “We’ve finished our work, anyway. The women
will take charge now.”
“But you’re not going to—to keep it up, are you Babs?” asked Cara,
anxiously.
“You mean—the scrap?”
“Yes. Really, they are sorry.”
“They ought to be,” Babs retorted. “Why should they blame me?”
“Oh, you know what kids they are,” laughed Cara. “Come on. I’m going
for a soda. I’m choked. Come along. Want to fetch your daddy?”
“I guess he’s riding with Mr. Hunt,” Babs answered. “Let’s go. I’m
smothered,” and bidding a quick good-bye to the newly found relation,
Miss Isabel Davis, Barbara hurried along with Cara.
The soda was refreshing. They sipped it leisurely in Hills, both girls
a little tired and one girl, Babs, a little anxious.
“If only old Captain Quiller knows where Nicky may have gone,” she
said, “I feel positive we will be able to clear everything up.
Wherever do you suppose the old model went to, anyway?” she asked
again, for the question was constantly recurring to her.
“If I could guess that,” Cara answered, “I would be smart. Look who’s
coming!” she broke off suddenly. “There’s Dud and Glenn.”
“’Low there!” sang out Cara’s brother as he espied them. “Where on
earth did you two hail from? I had an idea you were in Europe or some
such town. Haven’t seen you——”
“For a month of blue moons,” Babs supplied. “Hello Glenn! Where have
_you_ been? Forgotten where Dr. Hale lives?” she joked, for her friend
Glenn had rather deserted her lately.
“Nopey. I haven’t. But you girls are always so goshed busy a fellow
doesn’t dare bust in,” Glenn replied. “Have more soda, or a lolly-pop
or sumthin’? Just to be sociable, do,” he urged, for the girls had
pushed their almost empty glasses aside.
“Couldn’t possibly,” Cara answered.
“Nor I,” declared Babs. “The best I could do to oblige would be to
accept a box of nice two-toned writing paper, Glenn; that is if you
insist, of course.”
“Well, we’ll get to the writing paper after the soda,” Glenn replied
dryly. “How do you like our new coats of tan? Dud has had me out at
dawn running up and down the beach, training you know,” he explained.
The girl with the paper cap, and gingham apron, and cheerful smile had
taken the boys’ order. She must have loved to serve soda the way she
smiled at those boys.
They joked and chatted until Babs wondered if the hour planned for her
visit to the lighthouse would be all used up, there at Hills. It was
pleasant to meet the boys again, and they were going to camp, a
military training camp, late in the summer, so that they too had much
to talk about. But she could not spare the time.
Glenn and Dudley had become great friends; just as great as Babs and
Cara; that was evident.
“And oh, say!” sang out Dudley suddenly. “Know what?”
“No, what?” answered Babs punning on his exclamation.
“Our little Nicky brought me the corkingest little wooden mug, all
carved in queer birds and little beasties——”
“When?” interrupted Babs eagerly.
“When what? Birds or beasties?” asked Dudley.
“Oh, when did he bring them, silly?” Cara asked her brother. She
understood Babs’ eagerness.
“Well,” drawled Dudley, as a boy will when he knows a girl is anxious,
“to be exact——” He looked at his watch.
“Please tell me when he came, Dud?” Babs asked frankly. “I’ve lost
track of Nicky and I must find him.”
“Oh; that’s different,” replied the boy. “Well, he came this morning
while Glenn and I were knocking up some wonderful tennis. He crawled
through the hedge and I imagine he swam the brook. He looked just
about like something that had swum a brook when the brook was being
swept out. He can look too funny, that youngster.”
“Did he say anything about having moved?” Barbara asked impatiently.
“Nary a word. But say, Babs, they don’t move, they flit, like the
birds. And a good thing too. Lucky dogs! Everybody ought to flit
instead of moving. Remember when we last moved, little sister?”
“Oh, forget it,” answered Cara. “Don’t try to remember it. But say
Dud, listen. _Where_ has Nicky flitted to? That’s the great question.”
“How should I know? He just plunked the wooden thing under my nose and
I plunked a dollar bill in his fist, and there you are!” Dudley could
be brief and expressive at times.
“Let’s go, Cara,” urged Babs. “I really must go, you know,” she
insisted.
“Oh, say,” interrupted Glenn. “Who was going to eat that box of
writing paper? Call the waiter. Here!” this was to a boy who stood
grinning behind the counter. “Where’s your best stationery——”
“If you are going to treat us, Glenn,” Cara cut in, “let’s select our
own. Do, please. Come along Babs. We’ll teach him not to be rash.
We’ll buy the very best,” and laughingly, she led Babs to the pretty
glass counter in the very back of the store where all sorts of
attractive things in stationery and powder boxes were gaudily
displayed.
A little later, armed each with a magazine that Dudley insisted upon
buying them, and the gold-edged blue-lined writing paper that Glenn
gladly paid for, they finally made their escape.
“Do let’s rush along,” begged Babs. “We must get to the lighthouse
before supper-time and I suppose they eat at six o’clock sharp,
government time,” she suggested gaily. “Oh, Cara, I am feeling better
every minute, aren’t you?”
“Yes, it’s the soda, the writing paper and the magazine. All cheerful
little things,” Cara answered, starting her car. “But say, Babby, did
you have any sort of inspiration when Dud told about _more_ wood
carving?”
“No, Cara, why?” asked Babs, breathlessly.
“I did.”
“You did. What?”
“I thought maybe, just maybe you know, that the boat model was
borrowed for a model.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You are not usually so stupid, Babby dear,” sighed Cara. “Can’t you
see? It wouldn’t really be stealing if friend Nicky took the little
boat for some one to copy, would it?”
“Cara!”
“Now, would it?”
“Not stealing,” said Babs slowly. “But who would want to copy it?”
“Stupid again. Whoever does the beautiful carving, of course.”
“Oh.” Babs fell into silence after that. She had not thought of such a
possibility and it sort of staggered her.
“Copy the model?” she said finally.
“Why not?” pressed Cara. “It was worth copying, wasn’t it?”
“It certainly was. Cara, you’re a wonder. I never would have thought
of such a thing,” Babs declared still a little jerky.
“Oh, yes, you would. I didn’t give you time. But don’t build your
hopes too high, dear. I may be all wrong,” drawled Cara.
“I hope you’re all right,” said Babs fervently. Then she stared hard
ahead, as the car cut its way through the heavy sand. She was
wondering. Nicky said he hadn’t taken the model—no, he said he hadn’t
stolen it.
“And wasn’t it queer,” Cara broke in on her thoughts, “that he, Nicky,
should fetch Dud another piece? Whoever cuts those out must be an
expert,” she promptly decided.
“Yes,” said Babs abstractedly.
“And Nicky’s like Hop-o-My-Thumb,” she added. “We just about get on
his track when he—hops.”
“Yes,” said Babs again.
“If I said you were handsome would you say yes, Babs?”
“Yes,” said her companion. Then they both burst out laughing.
“I knew I’d catch you. Well, you’re not handsome, not when you pucker
up your forehead that way, anyhow. Now, here we are on our way to the
lighthouse, and here’s where we get out and walk,” she went on. “I
suppose we’ll have to wait until morning if the captain is trimming
his lamp,” she finished, locking her car and then following Babs
through the deep sand to the little path that led along the beach to
the lighthouse.
A big, shaggy, friendly dog rushed out to them.
“Captain in?” Babs asked the dog.
“Whoo-of!” barked the animal playfully, licking Babs’ hand as an after
thought.
“Yes, he’s in,” said Cara. “I see his foot. See it sticking out there
in the bushes?” she directed, for the porch of the lighthouse was
surrounded by a stubby growth generously called bushes, and they could
see the outlines of a shoe among them.
There was the scuffling of a chair as the girls reached the funny
little home-made porch.
“Well, now,” declared the captain moving in his chair but not rising.
“Here you both are! How do? See, I’ve a game leg and can’t get up,” he
explained. “Slipped on the third step the other night. Ouch!” he
groaned as he moved the “game leg” unintentionally. “There ain’t
nuthin’ worse,” he declared still groaning.
“Hurt your foot?” Cara managed to say. “That’s too bad, Captain. You
need both your feet to climb up to the light.”
“Don’t I though? Find a place to sit down among those books. I’ve been
readin’ my head off, me and Mac” (he patted the dog affectionately)
“and it’s tough being stuck in a chair with a pretty sea like that
rolling under your very nose.”
“Yes, it must be,” agreed Babs. “But Captain Quiller. I’m sorry to be
in a hurry, but I have to be,” she sort of apologized. “Can you tell
me where Nicky has moved to?”
“Moved to? You mean flew to.” (It was the same sort of expression
Dudley had used.) “They’ve gone to the woods. Didn’t you know?”
“To the woods!” both girls exclaimed.
“Yessir. And sensible thing to do too. The woods is just the place for
them.” And Captain Quiller brought his cane down so hard and so near
his sore foot that he groaned anyhow, although he didn’t touch it.
“Where? What woods!” demanded Barbara impatiently.
“Well, now. Not so easy to locate from here seein’ as how it’s some
miles back. But he’ll be here, Nicky will. He’s my stand-by now,” the
captain declared proudly. “Depend more on him than I can on Pete.
Yessir, Nick is some boy.”
Barbara loved to hear him praise her little protégé. She didn’t
realize it, of course, but she was taking Nicky and his affairs to
heart just as grown folks take protégés and their affairs.
“Couldn’t we find their camp?” pressed Cara. “We really want to speak
to Nicky just as soon as we can.”
“By the time you would find him he would be due here likely,” answered
Captain Quiller. “Hope nothin’s wrong?”
“No, not exactly,” said Babs, “just a little mixed up.”