RUTH FINDS A PARTNER
Early Monday morning John Hadley and Jack Wilkinson drove one of Mr.
Andrews’s machines out of Silvertown, back by the quickest route to
the farm-house. In his hand, Jack carried a map of the trip, and they
followed the road that ran closest to the creek.
At the farm-house they met Mrs. Higgins, and asked anxiously for news
of the girls. Overcome by a sense of remorse, she told them the whole
story, just as it had occurred. The boys listened with increasing anger.
“The man’s crazy, of course!” cried Jack, fiercely. “Why, I’m her own
brother----”
“Still, there may be a Margie Wilkinson missing--and not your sister,”
remarked the woman. “It’s not such an uncommon name.”
“Hardly likely, though. You haven’t seen the old devil since?”
“Not a sign of ’im!” replied Mrs. Higgins. “But what I can’t understand
nohow is why the girls didn’t reach Silvertown by now. They escaped
here Sunday night, perty early, too, I reckon!”
“By George, the old nut must have caught them again!” roared John,
beside himself with rage. “Come on, we haven’t a moment to lose!
Where’s this town you spoke of? Let’s go notify the police immediately.”
“And shall I leave the girls’ boat in the barn where the old man hid
it?” she asked. “I found it yes’te’day.”
“Yes, we’ll send a truck down for it later,” said John. “We must be off
now!”
Mrs. Higgins gave them directions how to reach Besley, and a
description of the old man who seemed at the bottom of the affair. But
although the constable at Besley remembered seeing the man, and the
hotel-keeper showed them the name--Adam Jones--signed in a very shaky
handwriting, he said he had not seen the old fellow for several days.
“He come over here a couple o’ nights fer dinner,” remarked the clerk.
“But he didn’t have much to say--except to pass the time o’ day. Didn’t
say nuthin’ about no runaway. I reckon he wanted to keep the reward fer
hisself.”
“Well, if you see him, you just lock him up!” cried John, vehemently.
“He’s nothing but a common kidnapper!”
“Easy now, young feller!” cautioned the constable. “The man may only be
tryin’ to obey the law and earn an honest reward. There might be other
Margaret Wilkinsons, besides your sister!”
“But my sister’s name is Marjorie!” contradicted Jack.
The constable shrugged his shoulders and turned away as if he did not
attach much importance to the boys’ assertions; they probably had their
facts wrong, he surmised.
All day Monday the boys wandered about the woods, looking in vain for
the lost girls. As it began to grow dark, John suggested a telegram to
Mrs. Wilkinson.
“Mother and dad went for a motor trip,” replied Jack; “and they won’t
be back till Tuesday or Wednesday. So it’s no use now. But we can go
out again tomorrow, and if we don’t get any trace, we’ll send word
then. But, by the immortal gods, we’ve got to find them, John! I
believe it would kill mother!”
Disconsolately, they drove back and entered the house just as the
guests were answering the summons to dinner. Mr. Andrews and Mr.
Remington had likewise met with no success, and the seriousness of the
affair threw a cloud over the party.
Ruth had not enjoyed herself so thoroughly that day as she had
expected. Very soon she noticed that the boys and girls began to pair
off, or go in groups of fours, and she seemed left out. If she had
entertained any hope of having John Hadley to herself while Marjorie
was away, she was disappointed; for, of course, he was gone all day.
And Jack Wilkinson’s absence lent another trying aspect to the
situation.
During the bathing hour, most of the party remained together, and at
luncheon they wandered in and sat as they pleased. With Dick Roberts
hovering near Lily, and Roger with no eyes for anyone but Doris, the
only boy left of the old crowd was David Conner, and he seemed too
much worried about Marjorie’s absence to be an entertaining companion.
Ruth’s choice, was, therefore, narrowed to the new scouts, but
unfortunately they seemed already taken with Frances, Ethel, Florence,
and Alice. The girl suddenly felt herself ignored, an outsider; and she
had no one but herself to blame!
But Ruth Henry was not a girl to demand pity or to allow others to
think her unpopular. She therefore attached herself to Mr. and Mrs.
Andrews, and talked entertainingly all through luncheon.
“The afternoon is an open one,” said Mrs. Andrews, when the guests were
all assembled on the porch a little later. “We had hoped to have a tea,
so that you could meet some of the young people of Silvertown, but we
have postponed it until Thursday in the hope that Marjorie and Frieda
will be found. For no one is much in the mood of festivities with this
hanging over us.”
“I know what I’m going to do!” announced Ruth. “It’s very unsociable,
but it’s got to be done. Practice canoeing all by myself!”
This was a clever stroke of Ruth’s; it at the same time afforded her a
good opportunity to improve her chances of winning on Wednesday, and
freed her from any suspicion of unpopularity.
“I’m going to bed!” sighed Lily. “At least, if the guests will excuse
me.”
Several of the others signified their intentions of going walking or
canoeing, and soon the party was completely scattered.
As the evening drew near, they all felt an unconscious tremor of
excitement--of hope that the searchers might return with the missing
girls, or at least with news of them. But one glance at their faces
dispelled any illusions.
“All boys together tonight, and all girls together!” announced Mrs.
Andrews, as they entered the dining room. She believed that this brief
separation would add zest to the companionship of the evening.
When everybody was seated, John told his story in a tone loud enough to
be heard all over the room. The news was far from welcome; indeed, Lily
Andrews and Doris Sands became almost hysterical.
“We’re going out again tomorrow, if we have Mr. Andrews’s permission,”
he concluded; “and, by Jupiter! if we don’t find them, we won’t come
back. We’ll take plenty of money, and go armed, and stay out till we
conquer, or die!”
His resolute spirit was applauded; everyone felt that he was thoroughly
in earnest, and that he was, moreover, the best one for the job. Ruth
alone looked annoyed; events were not quite taking the course she had
planned.
When the hostess announced a dance at the club house for any who wished
to attend, Ruth again looked worried. She would be forced to remain at
home, she knew; for none of the boys would ask her. She glanced shyly
at Jack, but received no encouragement; the boy was worn out after the
adventure of the day.
The whole party had just seated themselves comfortably on the porch
when a Ford Sedan wound up the drive towards the house. Then, to Ruth’s
great astonishment and joy, she recognized Harold Mason at the wheel!
Mr. Andrews rose to meet him. Lifting his hat, the boy inquired whether
Ruth Henry were not among the guests.
Already Ruth had jumped to her feet.
“Oh, Harold, I’m awfully glad to see you. How did you ever happen to be
up here?”
“I’ve been visiting a chum in New York, and as I drove near, I thought
of you and wondered whether I couldn’t look you up as I passed. Why,
here’s Hadley, too! And Wilkinson! Is your sister here, Jack?”
Before the latter could reply, Ruth introduced the stranger to the rest
of the party, and then hastened to tell the story about Marjorie and
Frieda.
“I’m going to look for her!” cried Harold immediately, his voice filled
with indignation. “I bet the old fellow was an escaped nut. Any asylums
around here, Mr. Andrews?”
“I don’t know--we’re strangers here, too. But there is nothing you can
do now, my boy. Our boys are going out again tomorrow, and if they
do not have any success, we can get in touch with Mr. Wilkinson by
evening. But won’t you join our party? I’m sure Mrs. Andrews joins me
in extending you a hearty invitation. There’s a dance at the club house
tonight.”
“How jolly!” exclaimed Harold. “I’d love to, Mr. Andrews, at least,
if--well--it’s up to Ruth.” Then, turning to her, he asked, “May I go
with you? If not, I guess I’d better be on my way.”
“Yes, indeed; if you have evening clothes,” replied the girl.
“Of course I have; didn’t I tell you I’d been visiting in New York?”
Ruth felt as if she had never been so glad in her life to see anyone
as she was to see Harold. It was not only a relief to have a devoted
attendant, but it afforded her a release from her own gloomy thoughts.
For already the escapade was beginning to depress her. She really had
never thought of the effect Marjorie’s absence would cast upon the
other guests; all she had thought of was the girl’s own annoyance at
the delay, and that reflection brought her nothing but satisfaction.
Marjorie had been too popular lately; she was having things her own
way entirely too much. It was not good for any one girl to receive
so much attention, Ruth thought; for the sake of the others in the
troop, as well as for herself, she had regarded her prank as veritably
charitable. But now she was almost beginning to regret it. For she knew
that when the girl did finally appear, she would be the petted heroine
of the party even though Ruth herself might win the cup. And who knew?
Mr. Andrews might even suggest that the winner compete with Marjorie
and Frieda! It was a strange thing that Ruth Henry had not learned by
this time that her underhand scheming never got her anywheres. But each
time she seemed to forget, and tried her mean practices all over again.
She could hardly wait to be alone with Harold, to talk the thing over
from beginning to end. Fortunately, the others went earlier, while she
waited for him to dress.
He was not absent long, however, for he, too, was eager to tell her
about the adventure.
“By George! you look stunning, Ruth, in that white fluffiness!” he
exclaimed, as he threw her cloak around her shoulders.
“You should have said ‘By Georgette,’” corrected Ruth; “because that’s
what my dress is made of!”
She linked her arm through his, and they started down the steps.
Harold was blissfully happy; he knew that he had accomplished something
worthwhile for her. He hoped to see her win the meet on Wednesday;
perhaps, after such a success, he might be able to come to an
understanding with her. For Ruth Henry was very attractive, he thought,
and although only seventeen, she was undoubtedly the sort of girl to
become engaged very young.
However, he said nothing of all this now. Instead, he told her the
whole story, just as it had happened, allowing her to realize the
perils he had gone through for her sake.
“And you don’t think she’ll ever suspect?” asked Ruth, trembling at the
daring of it all.
“Never!”
“Harold!” She laid her other hand over his arm. “You have been
wonderful; and I can never thank you enough. But will you promise me
one thing more?”
“Absolutely anything!”
“That if she ever should find out, you’ll say it was your own idea to
help me, and that I never knew a thing about it?”
Harold laughed. “Oh, yes, Ruth, if you wish. But Marjorie will never
find out.”
They ascended the steps of the broad clubhouse and found the dancing
already in progress. Hastily disposing of their wraps, they joined the
merry throng and were soon lost amid the crowd.
During the intermission that followed, Mrs. Andrews brought four
young people of Silvertown to meet them. Two of them, Jeanne and
Eloise Trowbridge, occupied the cottage next to theirs, and one of the
young men, Griffith Hunter, lived across the street. Ruth became more
animated than ever, and dances were exchanged. Harold all the while
watched her jealously, for she seemed immensely infatuated with young
Mr. Hunter.
The evening passed quickly. Ruth was again with Harold on their way
home. But her thoughts were no longer with him, but rather against him;
for she was ready to send him home.
“Tomorrow,” she decided, “I’ll speak to Mrs. Andrews; for if he hangs
around, I’ll never get a chance to see any other boys. And besides,
he’s served his purpose.”
She turned to her companion to say goodnight. But something in
his look, his tone, softened her heart, and she squeezed his hand
affectionately.
“After all, he might as well stay till the meet is over,” she thought;
“for he really has earned it.”