OFF FOR LAUREL HALL
When Mrs. Morley learned that Jo's statement was not a product of her
imagination, but the sober truth, she looked grave.
"I don't know whether your father will want any one else to send you to
school, my dear," she said slowly.
It took the girls some time to win her over to their viewpoint, but
Nan, speaking eloquently, drew a word picture of the life of her
invalid aunt with the object of showing how hurt, and perhaps seriously
affected, mentally and physically, the latter would be should her well
meant proposal be rejected. In the end Mrs. Morley was led to believe
that Miss Emma would suffer more than Jo if the latter were not allowed
to go to Laurel Hall!
"Well, maybe you're right," said the girl's mother at last reluctantly.
"But I don't know whether your father will see it that way, Jo."
"It's up to you to make him see it that way, Mother dear," said Jo and
kissed her mother pleadingly. "You can, you know!"
In the end Mr. Morley was won over, as Jo had felt sure he would be. It
was definitely decided that Jo was to go to Laurel Hall.
On the night that he made his decision and gave Jo permission to accept
Miss Emma's generosity, Mr. Morley left the room for a moment and
returned with a pitifully small roll of bank bills.
These he thrust into Jo's hand without looking at her.
"Get yourself some clothes, Josie," he said a bit huskily. "It won't go
very far, but it may do for the present and I'll try to send you more
later."
Jo looked at the little roll of bills, knowing how tragically hard it
was to part with even so small a sum in these hard days of threatened
financial ruin.
She went up to her father and plucked him by the sleeve.
"I--I don't need this, Dad," she said bravely. "What clothes I have
will do."
But Mr. Morley shook his head, still without looking at her. Jo noticed
his eyes looked heavy and bloodshot--as though he had not slept for a
long time.
"You've got to have it," he said, almost bruskly. "I only wish I could
make it ten times as much!"
Mr. Morley had admitted that could the absconding clerk, Andrew Simmer,
be found and brought to justice, something might yet be saved from the
threatened wreck of his business.
But Andrew Simmer was gone, "disappeared overnight," her mother had
said, "as though the earth had opened and swallowed him up."
As each day with its excited preparations brought the three girls
nearer to the opening of the boarding school and their departure for
Laurelton, Jo caught the contagion of Sadie's and Nan's excitement and
forgot to some extent the unhappiness at home.
At last the day before the great event arrived. Sadie and Nan had
shopped steadily--Jo, too, to the limit of the thin little bank roll.
Miss Emma, sharing in the pleasurable excitement of the girls, would
have supplied Jo with everything she needed, furnished her with a
complete wardrobe, but here Mr. Morley resolutely drew the line.
"If Jo can't go with the clothes I can give her, then she cannot go at
all," he said, and Jo assured him with tears in her eyes that she was
perfectly content with what she had, that, indeed, she had not wanted
to take anything even from him under the circumstances!
So it came to pass that Jo's trunk was packed long before Nan and
Sadie had finished buying pretty things. Jo had steeled herself to do
without a great many things that she had expected to have and could
have had if it had not been for Andrew Simmer, rascal.
"I've a score to settle with that fellow," she thought vengefully. "If
I should ever meet him!"
But her chief worry was for her mother and father. Both were dreadfully
downcast and there were times when Jo felt that she should not leave
them at all.
"If by staying at home I could do any good!" was the way she argued
it to herself. "If I could do any good I wouldn't stir a step! But I
would only be moping about all the time, making things ten times worse,
probably. Anyway, I know Dad is glad I am to have Laurel Hall after
all, though he hates to think of any one else paying my way there. Poor
Dad! If there were only something I could do to help!"
When, the evening before they were to start, Jo and Sadie ran over to
Nan's home for a few minutes happy talk on the prospects of the morrow,
they found Nan just packing a new sport sweater and her tennis racket.
"I've got a new one," Sadie said, pointing to the racket. "Dad brought
one home to-night--a perfect peach! He said he would buy me a new one
every season if it would improve my game."
"Evidently he doesn't think much of your game!" laughed Nan.
Sadie made a face at her.
"Neither do you, you horrid girl," she accused. "Stop laughing, or I'll
throw something at you."
"As the thing nearest at hand is the brass umbrella holder, I'd advise
you to do as she says!" chuckled Jo.
The joke was well understood among the chums, who were all three ardent
lovers of the game of tennis. But whereas Jo and Nan had profited
by steady and conscientious practice and were by way of becoming
exceptionally good players, especially Nan, Sadie seemed to lack
something--speed or muscle or quick judgment--that goes to the making
of a good tennis player.
But Sadie continued to practice doggedly and still lived in hope that
some day she would be able to beat Jo--or even Nan! But that day, even
in Sadie's rueful judgment, was a long way off.
"How about you, Jo?" Nan asked, looking across at the dark-haired girl.
"It seemed to me last time we were on the courts that your racket
looked a bit seedy. Don't you need a new one?"
"I need lots of things I'm not going to get," said Jo and smiled
bravely and skillfully changed the subject.
Before the girls left Jo went up to see Miss Emma and found her still
much more cheerful and hopeful than she had been before the fire scare.
When Jo was leaving Miss Harrison told her to put her hand behind the
door in the corner of the room and see what she could find there.
Jo obeyed and drew forth a beautiful new racket and a set of balls!
The girl could not speak for a moment, but kept turning the handsome
racket over and over in her hands, her eyes misty.
"You are very good to me, Miss Emma," she said at last. "How can I ever
repay you?"
"I am very busy repaying you!" laughed Miss Emma, her eyes bright.
Some time later Sadie and Jo walked home through the moonlight in a
happy mood.
"Laurel Hall to-morrow," said Sadie in a solemn voice, stopping at her
gate.
"Laurel Hall forever!" responded Jo, a lilt in her voice. "And I've got
a new tennis racket, Sade! Make believe I won't wallop everybody in
sight!"
"Except Nan," said Sadie.
"Maybe--except Nan," Jo conceded. "See you to-morrow, Sade. Nine
o'clock, sharp!"
The girls were ready at considerably before nine o'clock the following
morning. Although each solemnly declared that she had not slept at
all, the honest fact was that they had slept uncommonly well and had
only been aroused to the important facts of the day by the insistent
ringing of three alarm clocks set at three respective bedsides.
Be that as it may, the fact remains that they were all ready with grips
packed and hats on, a full half hour before it was time to start for
the station.
"We may as well go anyway," Nan argued, as they met on the Morleys'
porch. "The train might be early, you know. And suppose we should miss
it?"
They all agreed that this would be nothing short of tragic.
"Dad will take us down," said Sadie. "See, he's backing the car out of
the garage now."
So the girls and their baggage and Mr. and Mrs. Morley piled into
the Appleby auto--which was considerably crowded when they were all
accommodated--and started off at a great pace for the station.
"Off at last!" cried Nan. "Girls, I'd begun to think this moment never
would come!"