A SECOND ATTEMPT
Wednesday, the day of the canoe meet, had come at last! Marjorie
awakened with a sense of anticipation: she was extremely happy. For she
was free to take part in the contest!
“Hello, Marj! You awake?” called Doris, from the single bed beside her.
“Aren’t you glad it’s clear?”
“I certainly am!” replied the girl; “and I’m glad I’m here.”
“I am too. Oh, Marj, I surely do hope you get that cup!”
“Why, Doris, what about yourself? Don’t you want to win it?”
Doris reached for her kimono and proceeded to get out of bed.
“You know I don’t stand a chance,” she said; “so I’d rather have you
win it.”
“It’s awfully sweet of you,” murmured Marjorie, as she, too, started to
dress.
“Do you feel all right--rested, I mean?” pursued Doris.
“Yes, indeed; I’m going in bathing this morning.”
The party had never been so gay, so care-free, so hilarious, as it
was that morning, gathered at one long breakfast table. The shadow of
anxiety had been lifted, and the day, with its bright plans, promised
to be most delightful. Marjorie seemed the most joyful of the group.
Perhaps this was because of the contrast of the present scene to those
of the preceding several days.
“Did you dream about your old man last night, Marjorie?” asked Mrs.
Andrews.
“Indeed, I didn’t,” replied the girl, heartily. “I had a good sleep;
all I dreamed about was the lovely time we are going to have today--and
the rest of the week.”
“If it only doesn’t rain,” observed Bob Felton. “With such heat----”
“Oh, come now, don’t be a kill-joy, Felton!” remonstrated Jack. “It
isn’t going to shower.”
“I hope you’re right, Jack,” sighed Marjorie.
“Wouldn’t it be awful if we couldn’t have the canoe meet, after all our
experiences!”
“Oh, we’d have it,” reassured Mrs. Andrews. “And if all of the
afternoons are planned for, we’ll schedule it for a morning.”
The talk drifted to tennis, and Ruth noticed with uneasiness that
couples were pairing up. In the hope that John Hadley might ask her,
she deferred giving her final answer to Harold. For although Marjorie
was to play with Griffith Hunter, it would still be a triumph to
oppose her in league with such a partner as John.
“You girls who are taking part in the canoe meet this afternoon had
better take things easy this morning,” advised Mrs. Andrews. “From what
I heard your captain tell of the program, it’s to be pretty strenuous!”
“But it won’t matter if we go in bathing, will it?” asked Marjorie, who
longed for the refreshing coolness of the lake.
“No, that should not tire you,” answered Miss Phillips; “at least, if
you don’t swim much.”
The more energetic members of the party spent the early part of the
morning on the tennis courts, practicing with their new partners. Ruth
put on her bathing suit early to try a little rescue work, and Frances
went with her to the lake. But Marjorie was content to lie in the
hammock with a magazine until twelve o’clock.
With the exception of Ruth and Frances and two or three of the boys,
all of the young people assembled on the porch about half-past twelve,
clad in their bathing suits and raincoats. Harold was standing beside
his car, holding the door open.
“And might I have the honor to drive our brave heroines to the lake?”
he asked, with a deep bow.
Marjorie hesitated a moment, and Doris answered for her.
“Yes, that’s a good idea, Harold,” she said. “These girls need all the
rest they can get. Jump in, Marj--and Frieda!”
The girls laughingly obeyed, and Harold followed them. Before the rest
of the party had even left the steps, the Ford had reached the gate.
“How far is it to the lake?” asked Marjorie.
“About ten minutes’ walk I should judge,” replied the boy. “I guess we
can make it in two.”
“Oh, Mr. Mason!” said Frieda, who had been carefully watching the young
man’s manipulation of the car, “could I possibly drive? I always wanted
to, and never had a chance to learn.”
Harold’s eyes brightened; fate seemed almost to be playing into his
hands.
“Certainly,” he said, pleasantly. “But not on this road--there’s too
much traffic. Shall I turn back to that unfrequented one near the
woods?”
“Would you mind, Marj?” asked Frieda, turning toward her companion.
“Just for about fifteen minutes----”
“Certainly not!” said Marjorie. “I didn’t want to stay in the lake
long. Just so long as I get my dip, and we get back to the house by
quarter after one, so that I can dress in time for lunch. So, go ahead,
if you want to!”
Frieda moved to the front of the car and Harold began to explain in
detail the workings of the machine. So fascinated was she that she
hardly noticed how far they had gone or how lovely the road was.
“By the way, we haven’t any watches!” exclaimed Marjorie. “How shall we
know what time it is?”
“Oh, we won’t stay long,” said Harold. “Besides, I know a short cut
back, through the town district--we’re really driving around the
outskirts, I think.”
Harold stopped the car now, and Frieda moved over to the wheel. With
all the tremulous earnestness of the novice, she allowed the car to
wobble from side to side.
“Oh, do be careful, Frieda!” warned Marjorie. “We’ll hit a tree, I’ll
bet!”
“No, we won’t!” said Harold, calmly. “Miss Hammer is really doing very
well. Now let’s see if you know how to stop!”
Frieda accordingly proceeded to demonstrate her ability along this
line, stopping and starting about fifteen times in succession, and
usually stalling her motor by the way. All this consumed time, as
Harold realized to his satisfaction. Glancing at the speedometer,
he ascertained that, even with this interrupted progress, they had
already covered three miles. Figuring from the position of the sun,
and the length of time they had been out, he decided it must be nearly
one-thirty.
“Don’t you think we had better turn back?” suggested Marjorie, who was
beginning to feel rather hungry. “It must be getting late.”
“This road ought to take us back to the other end of Silvertown, if we
keep on the same way we are going,” replied Harold. “But if you stop
a minute, I’ll look under the back seat for my map. That ought to tell
us.”
“Do I have to stop?” entreated Frieda. “Please let me keep on running
it till we get back to civilization!”
Harold deliberated a moment. Ordinarily, he would not have considered
taking such a chance as allowing a novice to run his Ford, even for a
few seconds, without his hand beside the wheel to grasp it in case of
an accident. But now he was willing to risk almost anything which might
make for delay. The meet was called for three o’clock; even if Marjorie
did get there in time, she could not exercise on an empty stomach,
nor yet could she swim right after eating. His plans were working
beautifully; perhaps, after all, he might succeed.
“You run slowly, then,” he finally said to Frieda, “while Marjorie and
I look for the map. But please be very careful!”
The new driver felt quite sure of herself, and went ahead slowly, while
Marjorie and Harold rummaged under the back seat for the map. Among the
tools, oil cans, and dirty rags, Marjorie suddenly caught sight of a
piece of grey wig.
“What’s this?” she demanded with curiosity, holding up the straggly
hair. “Do you wear a wig, Harold, or false whiskers?”
Every bit of color left the boy’s face, as he beheld the tell-tale
object. Wildly he sought for an explanation.
“Oh--that! Why--I’m in a play--an old grandfather, you know----”
He turned to the map, which he had just managed to locate, and busied
himself in contemplation of it.
“Say, Frieda,” continued Marjorie, still looking at the wig, “this sort
of reminds me of our old friend. Look!”
The temptation was too much for the girl; forgetful of her occupation,
her head swung around instantly to behold the object of Marjorie’s
interest. But in that second she lost control of her wheel; the car
swerved to the left, and before she could put on the emergency, plunged
headlong into a tree. With a crash, the front of the radiator cracked,
and the water began to run out from the leak.
“Oh, oh!--What have I done?” she gasped, in terror.
Though rather appalled at the damage, Harold realized in a flash that
the accident had accomplished two ends: it would serve to make Marjorie
forget about the grey hair, and his embarrassment over its discovery;
and it would render it impossible for Marjorie and Frieda to take part
in the meet. For they had now gone almost five miles on a lonely road
where few machines even passed by, and from all calculations it should
be two o’clock. The girls could not make the journey, have their
lunch, and be ready for the meet by three. His victory was assured;
Ruth would have to admit that he was clever. And, besides, he was all
the while seemingly innocent.
“Don’t worry, Miss Hammer,” he said politely. “It can easily be fixed.”
At these words he got out of the machine, and went around to the front
to examine the damage. It was even worse than he had surmised; it would
be impossible to get back now without a tow.
“But we’ll miss the meet,” sobbed Frieda, now almost in hysterics. “To
think that after all we’ve gone through----”
“Oh, cheer up! Maybe there will be a machine along,” said Harold.
“Anyway, you girls can start to walk; perhaps it isn’t so far. I’ll
have to stay here with the car. When you get to Silvertown, will you
send someone from the garage?”
“But we’ve got bathing shoes on,” continued Frieda. “Oh Marj, we can’t
make it--not possible!” The girl began to cry afresh.
“Not if we stand here all day,” said Marjorie, a little sharp. She was
disappointed, dismayed at the turn the events had taken. It was hard to
see the silver cup almost within her grasp, and then to lose it through
no fault of her own.
“Sorry to leave you, Harold,” she said. “But we’ll send help. So long.”
“Goodbye!” he answered, in a tone of assumed distress.
The girls began to walk very fast, breaking now and then into a run,
and talking little, in order to save their breath.
“If we only had a watch!” sighed Marjorie, after they had gone about
half a mile.
“You’ll never forgive me, will you, Marj?” wailed Frieda again. In her
own mind, she was the chief of sinners.
“Nonsense, Frieda; it was an accident. Oh, look, the sun’s gone in! Now
we can’t possibly tell the time.”
“I’m baked!” cried Frieda, stopping suddenly. “I can’t stand this
raincoat another minute!”
“Nor I either!” agreed Marjorie; and both girls took them off.
“There’s a house ahead!” announced Marjorie, about ten minutes later.
“If we could only get a piece of bread----”
“And find out what time it is,” added the other.
All the while the atmosphere was growing heavier and stiller, and
the clouds blacker and blacker. So hot, so tired, so hungry were the
girls, however, that they hardly noticed the approaching storm. Keeping
their eyes fixed on the house in the distance, they walked with grim
determination toward their goal.
The house, though not large, was attractive and well-kept, and the
girls greeted it with a sigh of relief.
“I hope we won’t be kidnapped if we dare to go in,” said Marjorie,
jokingly.
A pleasant faced woman answered their knock. In a few hurried words,
Marjorie told the story, and asked for the time, and for a drink.
“Five minutes of three!” answered the woman, glancing at the clock.
“We’ve lost out!” gasped Frieda. “In five minutes the canoe meet
starts!”
“Not if I know it!” said the woman cheerily, throwing wide open the
door. “Just look at that rain! Come on inside, or you’ll catch your
death of cold!”
And so a second time Harold Mason’s attempt to help Ruth came to
naught.